


Between the Boards

by Linane



Series: Memories in Black and White [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: But it did and now I can't stop, Descriptions of war, Holocaust, I'm not sure how this happened, Love in horrific circumstances, M/M, Mentioned Anti-Semitism, Nazi Germany, Physical and emotional trauma, Sort of WW2 AU, Survival, emotional h/c, fili and kili are not related, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-04-20 10:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 47,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linane/pseuds/Linane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as a response for The Summer Fandom Raffle Exchange (and got completely out of hand), prompt #132: Person A is a German that hides person B, a Jew, from the nazis.</p><p>Fili and Kili, together, against all odds, in the circumstances that couldn't be more impossible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Dead Frog and The Years of Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> **If you are triggered by the themes of Anti-Semitism and the atrocities that took place during WW2 or find those particularly upsetting, this story isn't for you.**  
>   
> 
>  
> 
>    
>  _I personally find that historical period absolutely horrifying, perhaps even more so now that I have done a bit of research for the purposes of writing this fic. I have tried however to keep this story to its plot and avoid passing judgement on events and actions of the individuals involved, except where it was character's own view of the world._
> 
> _A few weeks ago I certainly would have never thought to write a Nazi Germany fic and I appreciate that this isn't a topic to be used for light-hearted entertainment. Having said that, it felt like Fili and Kili's story, much like individual stories of people who found themselves in the middle of the war and still subject to the same passions as outside that difficult time, needed to be told._
> 
> _Having been born and grown up in Poland my childhood and teenage years are full of such stories. Those that give us hope, those full of sadness and those incredibly difficult to hear. They are everywhere - ordinary people and their survival and accidental heroism._
> 
> _I should also mention that this story is likely historically-inaccurate as I have drawn my knowledge from nothing more than the stories mentioned above, a year worth of The Columbus Generation literature in high school and Wikipedia articles._
> 
>    
>  _With all that said, this one is a story of hope._

 

_Summer 1928 - Autumn 1940_

 

It begins over a dead frog which Kili is trying to resuscitate by poking it repeatedly with a stick.

It’s not terribly exciting, or working for that matter, but in the enclosed world of concrete and brick tenements, dirt backyards with a single carpet rail, coal shoots and barely any grass, this is as good as it gets for the dark haired boy.

Because the boy is a Jew. _Filthy, lying, thieving Jew_ , as the newspapers would call him, although at that time he is still unaware of the German propaganda machine unleashed on him and his kind.

Except in spite of his low expectations the day does indeed improve when a blond haired boy breaks away from a group of other boys swinging like monkeys from the carpet rail and approaches Kili, peering curiously at his find.

The Jewish boy tenses.

The others tend to stick to themselves, only sometimes caling him names; names he doesn’t understand and he doesn’t think they do either. It used to upset him and he used to follow them everywhere like a lost puppy, but by now he accepts it as something that just _is_. He still follows them, but is mindful to keep his distance and always pretend that he just happened to be going in the same direction as they are.

But the blond is new to the block – hair the colour of straw and a gap-toothed grin – so perhaps he doesn’t know the rules yet.

“I think it’s dead,” he announces critically, crouching next to Kili. There is a deafening silence behind them as the others observe the exchange.

“Yeah,” Kili admits. He takes in the battle scars – the blond’s knees are scraped bloody and he has an impressive scab on his left elbow – and in a completely intuitive move blurts out something completely out of place for a six-year-old in the closest thing to a playground they’ve got: “Wish it was alive though. Wish I could have saved it. Everything dies around here.”

The other kid eyes him quietly for a moment before offering, “Hey, you wanna hang out by the stream? We could see if we can find any live ones!”

Kili is both shocked and terribly excited. The ‘stream’, or more like a gutter, isn’t far away, but well outside where they are allowed to play and this new prospect of breaking the rules and being one of the _cool kids_ for a moment obscures even the prospect of a red bottom when his uncle finds out.

“Yeah…” he swallows, and then: “I’d like that.”

 

\---

 

It continues in school, when it turns out that the blond is very much determined to do what he wants.

They end up in the same class, which is allowed, still, _barely_ , and they enjoy each other’s company enough to share lunches, occasionally revise together in a quiet corner, and naturally, cause all the best kinds of mischief.

These adventures will stay with them and, in the years to come, will sometimes come back when there is little else to draw on for a source of strength. All the times they helped each other over the fence, ran away screaming from an enraged gas-lamp lighter when they made away with his little canister of petrol, or got caught by a neighbour dropping dead mice on his doorstep for his incredibly fat Persian cat, they did so together.

They are separated in gymnasium, but it doesn’t stop them spending every waking hour outside of school together, daring to go further into the city, exploring its little nooks and crannies. It is frowned upon by now, and several times Fili is forbidden from seeing the _Jew_ , but he always finds a way to sneak out. In gymnasium as well Kili has learned to give as good as he gets and they can often be found chased into a corner and fighting their way out, together.

When Fili reaches the age of seventeen, for the first time they realise that they will be forced to follow different paths in life; Fili is looking into a university degree and Kili is _not allowed_. It’s bitter and new and sits wrong with them, that suddenly there is discord between them. They discover they are two separate individuals after all, with different goals and aspirations and strengths. There is shouting and then there is a fight and broken noses and swollen eyes and even more shouting from their parents.

Days of silence follow, finally broken by a gruff “I’m sorry,” muttered on the staircase through a still-aching noise. There is a grin, slightly maniacal, and within days they are back to normal.

With time they learn to cope, and by the time Fili takes his maturity exams at the age of eighteen and then entry exams for the university, they have accepted, to an extent, that different paths don’t necessarily mean lives apart. Kili, two years younger, has been taken out of gymnasium and is helping at his mother’s corner shop three streets down – a place, incidentally, which has got a quiet nook in the back which Fili claims as his own studying spot.

There is a strange kind of peace in this newfound knowledge, in this acceptance and now-tested ability to adapt and find ways to stay together. They find that perhaps they were rebelling against life, more than each other. They exchange Fili’s books and Kili swallows them whole in his spare time; they talk; they laugh and if sometimes they look at each other in ways that speak of this growing need for _more_ , there is nobody there to witness it.

 

\---

 

Fili remembers the day the war broke out. He remembers the speeches and the national hymns on the radio, excited voices and promises of death.

He is terrified, because those voices tell him that the person he must hate the most, must _kill_ is Kili. In a way it’s anti-climactic, how he spends the next several days slowly watching the world around him go insane, witnesses the people he knew turning into strangers and the city transforming into a battleground.

Kili won’t go.

His mother has a shop and they hope that those who have important enough social functions will be spared or at least will be given notice. His family has sent letters to distant relatives in France, but otherwise life for them continues, only with more fear and uncertainty.

Kili won’t go, because it would mean leaving Fili, and he doesn’t know how they would find each other again.

Kili won’t go because his seventeen-year-old heart has questions and he is not done finding answers.

Fili meanwhile has been listening. His grandfather had been in the army, so his father has given up his job as a blacksmith in the little forge at the back and taken a fairly senior position himself, now that they are being mobilised. Fili is of age now, but he hasn’t had his conscription papers yet. Instead in those few days he has left he stays at home more, tries to catch the details of the _Operation_ that his father sometimes drops at the family table: When to stay indoors to be safe, which districts to avoid, when are they planning to move.

He takes over his father’s workshop, finding it a welcome distraction, and keeps his opinions to himself, but there are hiding spots: loose bricks, bushes, gaps between the pipes where they have been leaving each other messages since they could barely decipher their own hand-writing.

All the messages are the same, only with varying degree of urgency:

Get out of the city.

You aren’t safe. Flee, now. It’s only a matter of time.

Kili, you have to go, please! Take your mother and sister and go, even if you don’t know where to.

I’ll find you.

Direct contact is difficult now and one day the corner shop just doesn’t open. The streets aren’t safe. Volunteers are signing up and Fili knows his father is counting on him, although he won’t bring up the topic.

Counting on him to volunteer to kill people.

It’s incomprehensible.

They do see each other then, one last time, with Kili sneaking in to the forge late at night. Fili almost wishes he hadn’t, considering what he had planned and what has to happen that very evening, before it’s too late.

He peels his eyes from a page he’s torn out of a medical journal he borrowed from the library, studying a diagram he’s chosen and making sure everything is ready.

“We’ve had a response from France,” he announces, and Kili hasn’t changed – the same stupid grin that makes Fili’s heart pause plastered on his face, only now he’s wearing an armband with a star of David drawn on it, “mother thinks to leave within a week. So really I thought I’d – “

“Don’t say it!” Fili snaps and an awkward silence descends on the little space between them.

They stare at each other and he can see how brittle Kili’s grin was, now that it’s crumbling away and something without a name is holding his throat in an iron grip.

“Besides, it will be too late,” he says instead and he’s surprised at how tired he sounds, “tonight, if you can. Take only what you need to survive. Go towards the border, travel at night, at least as soon as you get out of the city.”

“Fili, we can’t just –“

“Yes you can! You have to! I would not cause you undue panic if I knew any different! If you want to live, you must go, _now_ –“

For a moment Kili looks like he might do something stupid, like ask him to come with them, or dig his heels in, like he so often does, and declare that he’s not going to run, but there isn’t the time, _really_ isn’t, because it’s late and his father will come downstairs any minute now to call him for supper and he must –

He grits his teeth and steels his resolve. “If anyone comes, hide in there,” he hisses instead, pointing to the door to the little store room to the right. “And I’m sorry. You were never meant to be here when this was done.”

“When what was done?” Kili stares at him uncomprehending, when a small blade – forged by his own hand and sharp, oh so sharp – appears in his hand. “Fili?! What are you –“

He knows at what point and what angle the blade has to go in, has pressed it there several times, compared it to the diagram. The trick is to know how far down to cut and what angle it should exit. He is fairly certain they will not pull the wound apart to see if the tip went as far down as the outside incision. If he gets this wrong he will never walk without pain again. But even then, he reckons the price is worth it.

For the first several inches the flesh is in too much shock to transmit any impulses, but then his luck runs out and he bites down on his own knuckles to hold the scream in. The access is a bit difficult, the back of his shin forcing him to twist awkwardly to see how far down he’s gone and Kili is not helping, running up to him, but it’s only a little bit further –

There.

“What have you done?!” Kili, voice high pitched, finally at his side, instinctively helping to hold him upright and it’s a battle not to drop the blade; it’s harder to focus through the pain than he expected. But he manages and throws the metal in his hand back into the glowing coals of the fireplace.

“What I – had to do.” He pants through his teeth, fingers smearing the blood over the tip of a sharp pre-prepared metal edge. He only has a few seconds before he’s going to lose consciousness and he has to make them count. “They would make me kill your people. Perhaps they would make me k-kill you. I couldn’t –“

“It would have been someone else!! It wouldn’t have been me or the people you know! It wouldn’t matter to me, so long as you came back _alive_!” He’s desperate now, tears in his eyes and Fili knows he deserves at least a few words for such anguish.

“If I h-had… I wouldn’t have been me.” He whispers, body swaying, vision doubling.

“Don’t try to speak! You need a bandage –“

He uses the precious few seconds of Kili frantically rooting through the workshop to throw the page into the flames as well, destroy any evidence. And then as if on auto-pilot, he removes the white-hot poker from the coals and presses it to the vertical wound he’s just created.

This time he does scream, he thinks, as the world goes blissfully black.

 

\---

 

Two days later the ghetto is created.

He misses this fact, because he’s in a hospital, unconscious for nearly four days. When he eventually comes round it’s to the voices outside.

“I’m really sorry, mister Durin, but the metal had sliced right through his Achilles’ tendon. He will never walk without a limp again, perhaps he will never walk without crutches. It’s early yet to give any proper diagnosis, but –“

Fili swims away to the steady thrum of laudanum in his bloodstream. He wonders vaguely if the doctor is right, or if they just weren’t able to check.

He wonders if Kili managed to hide on time.

He wonders if his father found any evidence that would suggest more than an unfortunate accident had happened in the forge that night.

He wonders what Kili’s frantic heartbeat would feel like under his lips if he was brave enough to press them to his skin.

But that is irrelevant because it’s the drug talking and Kili is far, far away from him.

 

\---

 

Kili never makes it out of the city.

On the eighteenth of November 1940 both he and his family are rounded up from the street and moved into a ghetto.

For the first time Kili understands what living hell is.

\---


	2. Deeper into the Maze of Tenements

_Autumn 1940 - Autumn 1943_

 

Fili’s father is suspicious, but the lad is barely lucid to speak to him about what happened in the forge that night.

When he finally comes round, he croaks, “I’m sorry. I was careless. I really wanted to be there for you,” and then gives him a soft smile and adds, “but you know how I am with blood. Perhaps it’s for the best. At least I won’t embarrass you.”

It’s difficult to be angry with him after that, especially when he pushes himself so hard not to be a nuisance and a liability, even if his hopes for his son’s military career had been dashed.

Fili cannot walk. And if he cannot walk, he can’t keep up with an army, and anyway the risk of infection out there would be too high. Instead, at best, he will be able to arrange for a position in command administration for him, anything to show that they are doing their duty.

It slips his attention how his son grows quiet watching the walls of the new ghetto being erected, and how he retreats to the forge more and more often, months later, when his crutches can finally be left behind.

 

\---

 

It has taken Fili weeks to finally get a confirmation that Kili and his family are in the ghetto, although deep in his heart he suspects he’s known ever since his father proudly announced that the _Jewish problem_ has been contained.

He tries to send a message to Kili, only once. It’s a simple one:

_Stay alive. I meant what I said._

_I will find you_ , he doesn’t say.

He never gets any response back. It is hard, really hard to get any news after that, but he knows that people are _dying_ in there, by the thousands, and Fili _regrets_.

He regrets the loss of sunny laughter, sharp intelligence and the familiar, restless presence.

He regrets the things he hasn’t done.

In June 1942 his father is moved. The Third Army finally descends on France, a long term campaign, with plans to march all the way through Spain and in a surprise swoop take Africa through Gibraltar.

There are congratulations and tears and he feels guilty about how disinterested he is, when they first tell him. But then it’s been two years’ worth of things that he can’t find within himself to forgive, never will, and their relationship has steadily deteriorated, when Fili found it tedious to keep up the appearances.

That and there is very little that makes him feel anything these days. _Two years_ , he thinks, _what are the chances_?

“I am sending your mother and aunt to the countryside, to stay with the family. If the allies invade, the city won’t be safe, we are too close to the border.” His father says a mere three days before his departure and Fili nods numbly. “I would send you too, but I know you have a job to do here, a duty that you won’t want to relinquish.”

Another nod and Fili thinks that nothing could be further from the truth.

“This means that you will stay here all by yourself. I need you to look after the house, and more importantly, look after yourself. None of that melancholy now. You have to hold your head high in this – you are as much as soldier as we are.”

The words hurt and it takes effort to school his face into a calm mask he usually wears. He wants to scream; he’s not a part of anything, doesn’t want to be, he will never be like them!

“You can count on me,” he says instead and thinks it will be a relief when they’ve gone.

Perhaps the silence can heal his soul.

 

\---

 

It’s three years before Fili and Kili see each other again.

Three long years in which Fili’s leg heals, confirming his suspicion that he has managed to spare the one muscle he needed intact. It still gives him trouble on rainy days or when the weather is about to change and he suspects it always will, but it’s almost irrelevant compared to the horrors he saved himself from.

It’s around six when he leaves his clerical job and makes his ways slowly back to the tenement. He’s careful to maintain his limp in public, in case they try to enlist him again, so he has plenty of time to peer carefully at the tall walls of the ghetto and listen to the screams inside.

There has been an uprising.

An uprising that has allowed several thousand to flee, and Fili spends his days ever so carefully maintaining the little flame that has flickered in his heart, but making sure it doesn’t turn into wildfire.

It’s been eight days now and he knows that some inside are still fighting. The authorities claim that the situation is contained, but come seven the curfew will be in place again. Of the ones who escaped, most have been killed, although there are rumours that about three hundred have fled to the forests outside the city.

It is far from over.

It’s pure instinct when he hears running behind him to drop the act and duck into the nearest gate as fast as possible. There is a chase going down the road and although he thinks that with his looks and papers he wouldn’t get arrested, there’s no end to the stories of civilians getting caught up in the roundups, or shot dead by mistake.

He slides deeper into the recess of the door inside the gate and holds his breath as one silhouette shoots past, then another. Shots are fired, actual live ammunition, shooting down people like they’re game.

Somebody screams and falls heavily to the ground.

Fili grits his teeth. Another person, one more, two, three…

 _Run! Run!!_ he pleads in his mind.

If he blinked at that point, he would have missed it.

Something catches his eye, a detail, miniscule, yet familiar, something he hasn’t seen in –

It’s a comb. A little turquoise comb shaped like a crane, placed in dark hair of the same hue as –

It isn’t a conscious decision when he pushes himself away from the wood of the door and peers around the corner of the gate, because it can’t be –

Kili.

Maybe twenty feet away, looking half-starved, but running, still, towards Fili.

One chance, maybe not even that.

A soldier rounds up the corner, takes aim –

More shots.

More screams.

Kili gasps rather than screams, one leg twisted awkwardly behind him as the bullets graze his thigh and side, and he falls, his pace broken, stiffly, _impossibly_ , right into Fili’s arms.

A twist of his hip and Fili uses Kili’s own momentum to swing them around and into the arched gateway until they both slam against the brickwork.

 _But the soldier!!_ his mind screams at him, _the rest of them are behind the corner so they haven’t seen us, but that one soldier has seen Kili dive in here, he’s going to follow_ and for the first time Fili wishes he had a weapon in his hands, any weapon, a gun –

He has never wished to kill a man before.

As if reading his mind, one of the people fleeing turns around and fires back several times, _where have they gotten a rifle from?!_ and there is a distant scream.

The escapee pays for his audacity with his life and falls, just outside Fili’s view when a bullet finds him as well.

The audacity to live.

Kili meanwhile is fighting, trying to push him off with all his strength and follow the others, enough in shock that he doesn’t recognise him, or the pain from his wounds.

 _Of course you were one of those that escaped_ , Fili thinks and slams them again against the wall to shake him out of it and just _look_ , but as always, there isn’t the time, so instead he just pulls them into the shadowed recess of the doorframe, using all his strength to slap a hand over Kili’s mouth and hold him still.

It’s an effort and his leg protests, but he always was the stronger one, and it’s not really a contest in Kili’s diminished state.

“Stay still!” he hisses into the dark hair smelling of dirt and sweat and it’s only then that Kili freezes.

One pursuant passes them, then another, then two more and another two.

 _Bloodlust_ , Fili thinks and closes his eyes because whatever happens next, they have no control over it.

Kili is as still as a statue for a while, except for his heavy breathing.

“Inside!” Fili whispers once he thinks it’s safe enough that the door closing won’t be heard.

He almost loses his grip when Kili shoves away from him.

“My mother –“

“They’re gone!”

“They could be hurt –“

“Kili, they’re gone! You won’t catch up with them!”

“I can’t –“

There are more footsteps and Fili decides to risk it, shoving them both inside the door, praying that the old floor-boards won’t creak.

They take a moment, staring wide eyed at each other until the footsteps have gone before Kili tries again, “She will think I’m dead!!”

The despair of Kili’s fight breaks Fili’s heart. “I can’t save her! She’s gone, you hear me? I can’t let you go to get killed too! It was one chance and we took it!”

“I never asked you to –“ it’s now just pure anger at the realisation that Fili is right.

“What was I supposed to do!? Watch you get shot?!” They’re both whispering, but Fili is amazed that no one has opened their door yet to see what the commotion was all about. “I’m sorry! But I’ve got you now and I won’t let you go!” he hisses, bodily dragging his reluctant captive down the stairs under them.

There is a silence in which he knows Kili fights out perhaps the worst battle of his life, but for Fili the choice is simple.

So instead he opens up his shirt and tears off a strip of his undershirt, letting go of his captive but still blocking his escape route.

“Fili.” Comes a choked whisper in the end.

“You’re bleeding. I saw you get shot.” He wraps one strip around his too-thin waist and tears off another one.

“Can we go after them once we’ve waited a while? Perhaps some of them will make it!”

“Not if you want to live. Stretch out your leg.”

Kili does and then it’s suddenly like all fight has left him.

All Fili wants to do is pull him close and comfort him, but not here, not yet, they’re in too much danger still. So instead he says, “We have to hide you. Make you disappear. Nobody must know where you went. We will wait until the early morning hours before we move.”

 

\---

 

It’s not that far to Fili’s flat, but now that the curfew is in place they can’t risk crossing even just the few back alleys they know of until everybody’s guard has dropped. There will be patrols shooting without warning now that the escapees have been reported in this area.

The fact that Kili falls asleep not long after they’ve ducked under the stairs is a testament to how exhausted he must have been and Fili wonders how he survived the last eight days.

He decides he doesn’t want to know. Not yet.

It’s also a minor miracle that nobody comes looking for them. Twice people leave their flats to go into the backyard, to the water pump there, but nobody thinks to look under the stairs.

Around three in the morning Fili decides that finally it is time.

Neither comments when Kili takes his hand, eyes wide and terrified in the darkness, like an animal in a closing trap, as they start sneaking through the maze of backyards, hallways, gates, passages and little shortcuts they so loved in their childhood.

They are quiet on their feet and the sleepy silence seems to envelop them, but there is no telling whose eyes might be watching.

Fili has never been this afraid in his life. He has a plan, sort of, but this is the only part where he feels completely exposed, where it could all go horribly wrong.

One more gangway, a low wall they used to like to sit on, the back door, past the forge and up the stairs, quiet, their feet knowing by heart which steps to avoid because they creak.

Fili fumbles with the keys for a moment in pitch darkness, hands shaking because it’s gone too smooth, something is bound to –

And then they’re inside and locking the doors behind them, which doesn’t really offer much protection, but right now it feels like the boundary between safety and death.

 _Not yet_ , Fili tells himself, _the first twenty four hours are the most dangerous. Nobody must suspect that something’s changed_ but Kili trails after him uncertainly – he has only been allowed in here a handful of times, usually when Fili’s father wasn’t home – and Fili wants –

But _not yet_ and it’s a small price to pay if it means Kili’s life.

“We have to hide you,” Fili says in a low whisper and he grabs a few pillows and blankets on the way into the kitchen. He pauses for a moment, staring at the spot he had in mind and grimacing when he realises that the entry is small enough that Kili will have to crawl on all fours to get inside. “In there,” he offers, crouching to unlatch the simple wooden hatch that covers the low entrance.

Kili stares at him. “How long?”

“As long as necessary. Until the world is no longer insane,” he replies and watches Kili close his eyes and this time his heart sings _now, right now_ and he can’t stop himself folding the taller man into a tight hug. “It’s not so bad. It’s a pantry, but the jars are only set on the shelves along the walls so you should be able to stretch out. Please, feel free to help yourself to anything you like if you’re hungry. We’ll put some blankets and pillows in there, we’ll make it work,” he promises.

There is a creak from the flat above them and they both jump a little, the sound spurring Fili into action. He grabs two simple linen bandages from the cupboard and a bottle of milk and presses them into Kili’s hands once he has clambered inside.

“I will come as soon as I can, but perhaps not for another day or two. Rest, bandage your wounds, eat. I won’t be far, but try to be quiet.”

It seems inconsequential compared to what he really wants to say.

When he has pushed one of the cabinets in front of the hatch and double and triple checked that it isn’t visible from any angle, when he finally slipped into his bed just as the sun was rising, Fili thought of the thin figure curled up into a ball in the darkness.

 

\---


	3. A Voice in the Darkness

  


 

_Autumn 1943_

 

Fili is woken up by someone pounding on his door.

The panic is absolute even before his mind has fully remembered exactly who is hiding in his kitchen, but there isn’t the time to check if he’s covered everything properly in the murky light of the dawn.

Instead he rushes to get the door, hoping that his authentic ‘straight out of bed’ look will hasten his morning visitor to leave him alone.

“You wouldn’t have any leftover milk, would you?” It’s the lady from the ground floor flat, the one with three little children. “I’ve run out again and I remembered you might be able to help me out.”

They haven’t yet adjusted his rations so he still gets a full bottle for one family, but living on his own, he has on occasion offered what he’s got left to those that need it more. Every little bit is precious these days.

But his hair stands on end at the thought of where his milk currently is. There is no noise from the kitchen so far, and Fili prays that Kili doesn’t do something stupid.

“Uh… no, sorry, Mrs Schreiber. I ran out myself only yesterday.” He offers over the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“That’s all right, dear. I’ll just water down what I have left. Sorry if I woke you, but I wanted to catch you before you left for work. You know how the little ones get if they don’t get their porridge. Speaking of which, aren’t you going to be late?”

He glances at his watch and curses. It’s not quite eight yet, but to make it in on time he’d have to run. And he can’t be seen running if –

“Fili!” The shocked tone of his neighbour’s voice slams him back into present and for a moment he thinks that she’s heard something, but no, instead she says, “Whatever happened to your undershirt?!”

He blinks.

_What?!_

And then he remembers. The rest of his undershirt is wrapped around Kili’s injuries and he was so exhausted last night that he didn’t bother washing or changing. 'Last night’ being only about two hours ago. So when he stumbled out of the bed to answer the door –

“There was an accident at work.” He’s surprised at how easily the lie comes to him. “One of the trainees spilled some boiling water straight from the kettle. We left his arm in cool water as long as we could, but you know how hard it is these days to get clean bandages…”

She nods, but it’s hard to tell if she believes him.

He makes his excuses and thinks of Kili, his Kili, saved miraculously yesterday, but far from truly safe as yet.

He is harbouring a _Jew_.

These are the facts, but they hardly seem to reconcile with the reality in which that Jew has got a name and is his friend and _needs him_.

The decision he makes in the next three minutes is one of the hardest of his life. If the neighbour didn’t believe him, or saw them coming in late at night, it is possible she might report him. There might be a raid on his flat and then –

He doesn’t want to leave Kili alone. He wants to rush into the kitchen and climb into his pantry to hold him, reassure him and make sure that he hasn’t dreamt the whole thing up.

But the walls are thin and ultimately, if this is to work, _nobody_ must know. Even the inside of his home isn’t safe, not this close, not in the very heart of this whole thrice-cursed country!

Routine is everything. _Absolutely_ crucial. It’s the stupid little mistakes that get people thinking, connecting the dots. He has seen this sort of thing often enough to understand how it works. All it takes is one suspicion, one little whisper and it’s Kili’s life that he’s gambling with here.

He must act as if Kili doesn’t exist. He can’t acknowledge that the pantry is even there, it must be a wholly separate part of his life, his _consciousness_ , which he only visits when absolutely necessary. Especially now, when someone might be keeping an eye on him.

So instead Fili washes his face hurriedly, throws his hair in a low pony-tail, and pulls some fresh clothes out of the closet. Several minutes later he closes the door to what has now become a vault of his heart.

Among all the atrocities he’s seen or heard of so far, the small fact that Kili is only protected by a hastily moved furniture and a flimsy old locking mechanism is one of the most terrifying ones yet.

 

\---

 

The first few days are hard.

Kili’s new prison is barely big enough for him to be able to stretch out flat, and although it’s tall enough that he can sit up comfortably, he probably wouldn’t be able to stand.

The exploration of the space around him gives him something to focus on when Fili has left and the flat goes quiet. He’s not used to sitting still and he’s certainly not used to being quiet, and there is a part of him, an irrational part, which wants to rebel, throw himself at the hatch until it gives way to his freedom.

But that would put Fili in danger, so instead he stays quiet and tries to figure out the contents of the shelves lining the walls.

The layout of the flats in the tenements is similar, and thinking back to his own home, Kili concludes that this must have once been a coal store, which explains the low entry and the hard stone and brick around him.

There is no light at all, except for the narrow gaps on either side of the hatch, but running his hands carefully over the stone surfaces around him, he has found one other shoot, much smaller in diameter. He thinks it might have been placed there to allow drainage and ensure that the coals weren’t left damp. Considering the smell, and the faint sound of running water, he thinks it might be connected straight to the sewers. He uses it to do his business, but blocks it with his shoe at other times. He thinks it’s only partially successful with the smell, but he’s too afraid of the rats coming through.

As for the gunshot wounds – they hurt like hell, so he spends as much time as he can sleeping, to escape the pain and so his mind can spin its dreams of other places far away from here. There is no bullet in either of them, he checked, and he thinks it’s a minor miracle that they only grazed him, rather than shooting him dead right in front of Fili. Sometimes he imagines this happening and wonders if he’d recognise Fili in his last moments.

He has changed the rags that Fili wrapped around him for the fresh bandages on his second day but the blood has long since seeped through and has by now dried, sticking painfully to the skin. He can’t stop himself picking at the bandages, hissing from time to time when it disturbs the raw skin underneath. On the whole however, it’s probably the cleanest surface he’s got that he can use.

Fili seems to be ignoring him altogether for a day, then two, then three.

In his lowest moments he wonders if he will die here, in this stone coffin, forgotten by everyone. But an instinct he didn’t realise he’s developed years earlier tells him to trust his friend. He thinks that there must be a reason for Fili’s behaviour and he doesn’t want to cause trouble for the man who had literally snatched him from death’s doorstep and bargained for his life.

So he stays quiet, breathes in the easy, domestic smell that the pillows still retain and curls up thinking of his family home on the other side of the tenement.

It’s so close, and yet somehow he thinks he will never see it again.

 

\---

 

For a time, the sounds reaching him are his only thread to sanity.

He tries to portion his milk, but he’s never been very patient, so it’s gone within two days. For food he opens one of the jars from the shelves, and granted, gherkins aren’t perhaps all that great as the main dish for all his meals, but he’s so hungry by that point he doesn’t care.

But hunger is no match for the torture of boredom. In the end he forces himself to sleep, just to make the time pass faster.

Fili leaves, for work, he assumes, then comes back and busies himself around the house. Sometimes he hums quietly and Kili selfishly thinks that it’s for _him_ , for _his_ benefit, because he’s never known the blond to do it this often. The next day he leaves again after work and is gone for some time, and the steady sound of a hammer on metal downstairs is at least as soothing as the carefully hummed tunes. On the third day Kili nearly jumps, when there is movement nearby and the plates being moved and then a few grunts as something heavy is lifted.

"Fili?" He hisses quietly, and then listens, ear plastered to the hatch and excited beyond measure, to the sounds of something being nailed down.

“Just a little bit longer,” comes from the other side, and he nearly sobs with relief at the realisation that he hasn’t been forgotten after all.

Some more movement and then something rolls heavily a few times, until the sound of it is reduced to a quiet murmur.

Fili’s feet shuffling, some clinking, perhaps glass or china and then the heavenly smell of food.

He can’t help the low growl of his stomach and he can hear a tiny chuckle in response. It’s at that point that the world acquires the delicate hue of normality once again.

When the hatch is finally opened, Kili is blinded by the solitary flame of the kerosene lamp in Fili’s hand.

“Sorry,” the blond whispers and immediately adjusts the flame to a little flicker, allowing the shadows to shift closer over them once again.

Kili blinks and looks up, just as Fili gets on all fours and crawls inside reaching for him blindly, wordlessly.

They need it. By god, they _need_ it, and even the painfull hiss as the bleeding flesh on his side is pulled to accomodate the embrace isn't enough to separate them.

“I thought…” the words swell in his throat, choking him and he can’t stop a sob escaping “- I thought you were going to leave me here. Forever. I was so –“

 _Alone_.

Because this is what this is all about, and it hurts all the worse that he should find his best friend after all these years only to be denied his companionship.

They hold on for a long while, Fili’s arms tightening around him at Kili’s small admission, and if it’s longer than it should be, they are too familiar with each other to care. It is the only thing that can even begin to make up for the years they have lost and it’s nowhere near enough, but it’s a start.

“I’m sorry. I needed to be sure,” Fili murmurs somewhere to the side and Kili hiccups again because Fili smells nice, like he always smelled, and it’s enough to transport the exhausted lad back to the times when he knew happiness. But so much has happened since then, he’s _seen_ so much, that all those precious memories, full of peace and laughter could just as well be only a dream.

Within moments there is hot, steaming food placed before him and tea, and god, he forgot the taste of tea. He eats and listens to Fili’s explanation, while the other man makes himself comfortable on the floor.

“I couldn't believe it was you when I first saw you. I thought I was going insane, but I figured I'd rather be insane and save you, than stay sane and alone," he smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes and Kili wonders idly when he's learned to do that. "That was a miracle," Fili continues, "a miracle I couldn’t waste, so I had to be extra careful. I don’t think I can get you out of the city, not now when they are looking for the escapees. Perhaps not for a while yet. Which means that this cupboard cannot be compromised, because it’s about to become your home for a while.”

Kili looks up at him sharply, response on the tip of his tongue, but instead, for the first time he notices just how well they fit their stereotypical image. Fili – with his blond hair and mesmerising blue eyes, golden skin, easy smile and a prominent nose, is the perfect Aryan male, even if his long hair and braided moustache give him a slightly Viking-like look. People tend to chuckle at this last oddity, but he’s always said that there is not enough laughter in the world and if his face is going to be the source of it, then so be it.

Kili on the other hand has a more olive carnation, a narrow nose and dark, nearly black eyes and hair. He fits an image of a Jew perfectly, even though he knows his people come in all different shapes and colourings.

The contrast between the superior race, surrounded by the comforts of his home and the inferior race, crouching in a filthy den, could not be any starker.

Several years ago, before the ghetto, it wouldn’t have occurred to him and he hates what the Reich has done to him.

“You mean you want me to stay here,” he picks up instead, “in this hole –“

Fili winces. “It’s too dangerous outside. I don’t know how long this will continue, we have to assume this is long term and do everything to ensure it isn’t discovered.”

“I could just stay in the flat!” he protests, “Hide when you have visitors. Never go out. I’d be careful –“ Kili’s heart is pounding because to stay in the pantry is to be trapped, means endless days of this pointless _existence_ , when he was barely able to survive three.

“No, Kili. I’m sorry. It’s too dangerous," Fili repeats and he looks like it hurts him to say these words. "They do raids and late night searches and even those with nothing to hide aren’t always safe. They will find you and then they will –“

Kili glares at his friend with no fear, only anger and the strange calmness of someone who has seen _too much_.

Fili looks away, swallowing thickly.

“Say it.”

The blue eyes return back to his own and it’s a testament to how much Fili has grown that he doesn’t try to escape again, when he says “- they will kill you.”

He breathes heavily through the anger and fear for a few moments, sees the corpses on the streets, the nonchalance with which the soldiers shot the people he knew at point blank range, the hatred and desire to deal pain even though he’s done nothing to harm them. He imagines his hands, breaths, heart, everything it’s capable of feeling just ending, pointlessly, in an explosion of blood and pain. He imagines himself dead, yet another cold body, stripped of anything of any value and wonders what kind of insane universe requires such sacrifice of his own life.

“Why?” He whispers brokenly, uncomprehending. “Why do I have to die? I have never hurt anyone –“

“I don’t know!" Fili croaks, his voice cracking, just once. "I don’t know, Kili. I don't know how to cope with this world, how I could be a part of it; it feels like we have lived among monsters and now we can’t get out.” It sounds so lost and bitter and Kili has never seen his friend struggling so much, not even when they briefly fell out in their younger years.

Deep down he knows that Fili is the wrong person to ask, but nobody else wanted to listen to his questions.

“I’m not an animal!” His breath catches, this time because Fili is there now, his arms around him and he sinks into his hair and the solid support of Fili’s shoulder.

“I know. And I’m sorry, but I can’t think of another way.”

“I’ll go insane –“

“You won’t, I swear. I won't let you. I’ll keep you safe and sane. I promise I will. We’ll find a way.”

“You didn’t even acknowledge that I was here. I thought you forgot –“

It’s all bitter and misplaced but he’s at his breaking point and Fili is stroking his back and it's the only thing that makes sense anymore. Kili is afraid, so so very afraid of the darkness and the nightmares that dwell in it, the horrible silence and once again losing that tiny part of him that held onto his humanity.

“I had to be sure that nobody’s seen us.” Whispers straight into his ear and he’s amazed that Fili isn’t disgusted by the way he smells. “My first priority is to keep you alive. Even now we’re risking so much, but I want to do this, I needed to see you,” the blond holds him tighter when Kili tries to pull back.

“Fili –“

“Shhhh… I’m sorry you have to go through this and I know you’re scared. But I’ll make sure you know when I’m around and I will hear you if you whisper. We will figure out what’s safe and what isn’t, and I will make you a space in there, where you can be comfortable. A space you can make into a home.”

It’s a long, long night when Fili has eventually left and Kili is all alone with his thoughts again. He used to miss Fili when he was trapped in the ghetto. But it was nothing compared to how much he misses him now, when he’s almost within his reach, but never close enough.

 

\---


	4. Wounded by the Circumstances

_Autumn 1943_

 

Fili is a man of his word.

For a start, he crawls inside and the two of them scrub the pantry with warm soapy water and some wire brushes as best as they can, although Kili is careful not to move too much with his injuries. It doesn’t help all that much against the years of dirt and cobwebs, and once they have changed the water five times they arrive at the conclusion that the particles of coal must have just rubbed into the bricks and they will never be truly clean. But at least Kili feels like they have tried waging war against whatever vermin was lurking in the darkness.

Next, all the jars are moved onto the higher shelves to make sure that Kili doesn’t knock them over accidentally. That leaves the lower shelves free for Kili to arrange as he likes, to store the things he wants to keep with him within easy reach. He suggests that they move all of the jars out – Fili should have the benefit of using the few leftover preserves his mother had lovingly left with him before she moved, but the older lad only shakes his head and insists they are left in place so Kili has something to fall back on in case of emergency.

He gets a bucket, which makes it easier to maintain personal hygiene and at the same time works better for blocking the waste shoot, once it’s weighed down with a brick. A bowl for washing, two fresh towels which Fili will wash for him when needed, a hairbrush and a little pocket mirror.

Candles. He grows quiet when Fili presses them into his hands along with two boxes of matches and the blond lets his hands linger around Kili’s.

“These are all that I’ve got in the house, but I’ll get more,” he promises, and then, “I know if it was me, the darkness would have been worse than the silence.”

Kili nods, not trusting his voice.

With all that set up Fili carefully closes the door to the kitchen, double checks that the curtains are drawn and helps him out, supporting his weight when Kili sways from the sudden strain on his injured leg.

There is a chair prepared and two buckets of steaming hot water waiting for him, a third one heating up on top of the stove right next to the hatch. The glowing embers in its fireplace are casting soft, warm light onto the room, but other than that it’s completely dark. Fili’s eyes seem black in the darkness, but the smile is there, soft and affectionate when he sees Kili’s expression.

“I know you will want to be thorough, but be as quick as you can. Do you want any help with the bandages?”

“Yeah…” He sinks heavily into the chair, not looking forward to having them peeled away from his aching skin.

Instead of trying to unwrap the soaked fabric Fili decides to cut through it with scissors, a safe distance away from the wound itself, which helps him avoid having to jostle the dressing too much. He peels it slowly, but at a steady rate, and Kili shoves a fist in his mouth to stop himself from making a sound.

Both bandages end up in the fire and Kili is breathing heavily by the time they are removed.

“You can burn those rags as well and I’ll get you some clean clothes” Fili murmurs, getting back to his feet and heading for the kitchen door. “I’ll take a look at those wounds once I’m back. I think you’re going to need stitches,” he adds.

As he takes in Kili’s thin form, for a fraction of a second the fire reflects in Fili’s eyes into a look of quiet fury, making him think that Fili could _kill_ anyone who had a hand in turning Kili into who he is today.

He closes his eyes, ashamed, trying to wrap his arms around himself.

Kili has forgotten the fierce protectiveness of the older lad, had to learn to fight his battles alone in the ghetto. He feels forlorn and broken and he doesn’t even know if he can still be the friend he once was, all that regret burning hot in the corners of his eyes, as he fights to hold it in.

“Hey,” suddenly there are arms around him, folding him gently into a warm chest, as if he wasn’t utterly filthy, and - “welcome home.”

Tiny smile against his temple and Kili nearly chokes on tears caused by the unconditional acceptance, a thousand memories in his mind, of Fili lashing out, of the slow, contemplative, dangerous way his eyes used to narrow, of the quiet defiance. Back then it was merely careless adventures, bruises and stones thrown at him. Now, when they have very nearly managed to break him, when he bears vivid marks of how they hurt him, how they hunted him down, he can only imagine what’s going on in Fili’s head.

It used to annoy him a little, but now he lets himself sink into the familiar comfort and steady protection.

“Hey yourself,” he sniffs and it feels like the first _human_ reaction he’s allowed himself in years. “Thank you,” he adds, because he’s grown up in those last few years and learned that being able to show gratitude is a luxury far more important than his childish pride.

Fili stiffens for a moment, because this is new between them and speaks of just how much has happened, but then lets a soothing hand run over Kili’s back before gently stepping away and watching Kili rub at his eyes. “Come on, the water’s getting cold,” he smiles, squeezing his hand reassuringly one last time.

With that he is gone and for the first time in years Kili is left alone among the comforts of a normal home. The hot water feels heavenly on his skin and he scrubs furiously until he’s pink all over and feels almost human again. His hair is dripping wet and he shivers at the feeling of droplets of water running down his back. He wraps himself in a scratchy towel, trying to keep it away from the blood and stretches his feet towards the comforting creak of the fire.

In the open doors of the coal compartment he can just about make out his Star of David armband twist and blacken when the flames consume it and he thinks of his mother and little sister and all those others who had climbed out over the rubble out of the ghetto the day they escaped.

“Kili?” The door creaks softly, pulling him away from his thoughts, as Fili hesitates before stepping inside.

“It’s okay,” he whispers back.

Fili is carrying a larger selection of items than Kili expected. There are clothes, another blanket, a starched white sheet and a bottle of what looks to be his father’s homebrew.

“Drink,” Fili orders, passing the bottle, sitting himself cross-legged on the floor next to the chair and bringing a lamp and several candles closer.

Kili scrunches his nose up at the strong smell as soon as he’s wriggled the cork free. “What is it?”

“Painkillers,” Fili responds calmly, running the needle through the flame.

The stuff tastes even worse than it smells, but things do go curiously numb within a few minutes it takes Fili to prepare everything.

“Give me,” the blond demands, not looking at him, the needle ready in his hand. He takes a long swig and immediately splutters, but swallows, glaring at the glass bottle in his hand.

Neither is used to the taste of alcohol.

Within moments Kili can’t imagine what it would be like _without_ it, considering the world of pain he’s in before Fili is finished. They pass the bottle between them as the older one works, and the last of the vile liquid goes into the gauze before it’s pressed to his skin and secured in place with strips of linen.

This time he hisses sharply, the agony exploding anew as he twists away from Fili’s hands.

“Shhhhh!” Fili warns and Kili thinks that he’s too close, his mouth level with Kili’s line of sight.

“Hmmm…” He murmurs while Fili ties off a neat bow, hands him over the clothes and turns around to poke at the fire.

It feels like _sinking_ into the soft cotton of a button-up shirt against his skin and some simple linen trousers which are at least four inches too short and will need a belt. He wraps his hands around his shoulders again, this time in pleasure, stroking his fingers over the fabric, luxuriating in the comfort it brings him.

He watches Fili’s back, considers the frown that has settled over his face ever since they have found each other again and hasn’t left it.

“Why?” he whispers, thinking that the alcohol is perhaps making him bolder than he should be, given his current position. “If they find me here they will kill you. Why risk so much when you’ve clearly made a comfortable life here for yourself? What do you want from me? Forgiveness?”

Fili raises to his feet slowly and there is such an expression of pain on his face that Kili takes a step back.

“I want you to live,” he says calmly and it looks like he’s facing all of his demons at once, _almost_ small, but so incredibly brave, standing there alone, an impossible distance of experiences away from Kili, and for the first time it shows how helpless he must have felt in the face of everything that has happened around him. “Because it’s the right thing to do. Because I want to be able to make a difference, just once, now when it matters the most. Hell, Kili – it’s _you_ , not some nameless victim I happened to find! I –“ he hesitates and Kili can see the way his jaw looks to be cut from stone, when he says -

“- I will understand if you can only hate me. If it’s easier that way.”

Kili swallows, a heartbeat, another, the gap-toothed grin, scabs over both knees, and a snail-farm in a jar they once tried to keep.

A boy who couldn’t understand, pressing a white-hot iron to the long cut he’s made in his leg.

 _The scream_.

A price paid for being able to keep his soul.

That against similar blue Aryan eyes, but cold, never blinking as they held a gun to his head or wide blacksmith’s hands that beat him with a metal bar until he lost consciousness for two days, when he begged him to make them weapons. People stripping corpses, boiled rats and his sister crying herself to sleep.

Innocence lost.

But to let what has happened to him change him would be to let them win and Kili grinds his teeth watching Fili look away when there is no response, and turn around quietly back to the stove. He thought about Fili in the ghetto, of course he had.

Until it became too painful to hold on to those thoughts, until it was tearing him apart.

But now he thinks it’s the only way he can keep himself together.

A step, another, limping and unsteady, and he wraps himself around Fili’s broad back, for the first time realising that he’s grown taller when they were apart.

“No,” he whispers, breathing in the smell of Fili’s hair, “It’s not in my blood. I could never hate you. We stick together, remember?”

And it’s true, even when everything he feels is turmoil, helplessness and the need to lash out.

There is refuge in the way Fili’s shoulders sink against him, a single shaky breath he draws and this unspoken promise that this isn’t everything that life has in store for him.

 

\---

 

Within two weeks Fili has sourced a mattress.

They have to cut off nearly twenty inches on one side to even fit it through the hatch, but the look on Kili’s face when he sprawls on it for the first time makes it worth it.

The candles are easy by comparison. He’s in charge of the inventory after all and if his hand slips when he takes stock by some ten boxes, nobody takes notice.

An old fashioned copper hot water bottle is a find at the flea market and only costs him some spare change. The pantry is conveniently located right next to his stove, which means that one of the walls heats up to a decent temperature when he’s cooking, but to maintain the fire throughout the night for Kili’s benefit would quickly deplete his already scarce stash of coal and wood.

He still feels like he’s done laughably little, watching Kili grow quieter and quieter each day. He’s not naturally comfortable with silence and boredom and it must be the worst challenge imaginable to the man he remembers as an almost hyperactive child. Fili thinks he’d bear it better himself, but then nobody wants to kill him for the way he looks.

So about a week later Fili prepares their food and sits down on the floor beside the hatch to eat it. They have discovered that they can loosen two wooden planks to the left of the hatch so they don’t have to move the cupboard each time they want to pass something. It’s only about a ten inch gap, nowhere near enough for Kili to squeeze through, but big enough that they can see each other clearly. The planks can be removed from either side so in the day Kili is able to take them out and have some light, without having to burn the candles.

He smiles at the curious, hopeful look in Kili’s eyes as he passes him the bowl with his stew, before tearing his bread roll in two so they can share.

The only thing Kili hates more than the darkness and the silence, is being ignored.

They don’t speak at first, simply sharing a meal and taking comfort in each other’s presence, but as soon as they are done there are quiet whispers which Fili only picks out because of how close he is. He stays until he’s dozing off against the warm cooker behind him, blinking owlishly at Kili’s form wrapped up in a blanket and propped up against the hatch.

In the end it’s Kili who gently shakes him awake and makes a shooing gesture to send him off to bed.

He hates this part – being parted – but he knows Kili hates it more because while for Fili it’s his home, for Kili it’s just one more prison.


	5. To Breathe a Life into Existence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll be pleased to know that this story is now complete, subject to the normal editing process, and sits at around 40k :) 
> 
> It will be updating twice a week, so please stay tuned.

 

_Winter 1943 - 1944_

 

 

Fili isn’t sure later on what exactly made him look at the bins in one of the dark alleyways he passes on his way back from work.

He almost misses the little black ball, except its white paws catch his eye and he walks back once his mind has processed what his eyes registered.

The kitten is tiny and shivering and Fili doesn’t think particularly hard when he scoops it, tucking it into his jacket.

If he’s honest with himself it’s for Kili; he thinks he could use some company when Fili is not there.

For Fili personally it’s about who he can or can’t save.

The kitten is shouty and not at all impressed when faced with a warm bath and some patient grooming to rid it of the parasites. Kili has taken down the planks and is peering around the kitchen curiously as best as he can.

“You remind me of a boy I once knew. He too never liked washing behind his ears.”

Kili scoffs and throws him an equally unimpressed look.

“Yes, I think I shall call you Kili,” he decides, lifting the animal high in his palm, trying to gauge whether it’s a boy or a girl. He’s never done this before so he finds it really hard to tell.

“You can’t call it Kili!” there’s an outraged whisper from the pantry, and anybody who’s known Kili for five minutes knows this is the best he can do in terms of keeping quiet, “that’s _my_ name! Find your own!”

“I like it!” he throws his friend a mischievous grin, wraps the animal up in a kitchen towel and passes it over.

Kili glares at the bundle in his hands but when it curls up into a ball on his chest and falls asleep, his expression softens.

“It will be horribly confusing, you know.”

“Not really,” Fili drops himself a pillow to the floor next to Kili, “you both react to sounds of food being prepared and demand constant attention. Two birds, one stone, right?”

He receives a punch to his arm for his troubles and thinks how good it feels to see Kili smiling again.

 

\---

 

He remembers the day Fili brought him news of his family.

It’s not really surprising to Kili that he found out, or that he was able to do so without raising suspicion. Fili has a way of just being places and listening quietly, observing and drawing his own conclusions.

The authorities claim all of the ones who escaped during the uprising have by now either been shot or sent to a camp. “I’m sorry,” Fili adds softly, “I don’t want to raise your hopes up only to watch them dashed again, but you have to remember that this is only the official version. You are living proof that they could be wrong.”

The words barely register as Kili curls up into a ball and weeps.

He wonders if they would still be alive if they didn’t run that day. He wonders if they could have just waited the war out within the ghetto, stayed low, obedient and broken. He knows this wouldn’t be an option for him, he’d stand up to them sooner or later, already has, several times, and barely walked away. Perhaps he’d take somebody else’s bullet? He is fairly certain that if not for Fili he would be dead by now.

But his family might have still been alive.

The guilt threatens to crush his soul as he cries himself to sleep.

He doesn’t know how many days pass in that state – not moving, not eating, not caring. He only remembers a hand in his hair, stroking gently through it, for hours on end.

No meaningless words of comfort, just that hand on his scalp and a glimpse of tears sliding down Fili’s cheeks as well.

At some point somebody presses a cup with hot liquid to his lips and Kili swallows automatically, recognising chicken soup. They can do what they want with him, it doesn’t matter.

On the same principle he eats a bit of a boiled potato the next day and then some rice with milk. Slowly, the mechanical functions of life return, although he’s not sure to what end.

Sometimes he thinks with vengeance that the life with the knowledge of what he’s done is his punishment.

 

\---

 

It’s only several days later that the key is turned in the lock of Fili’s flat much earlier than he’s due back from work.

It takes Kili several moments to realise this and by then the footsteps have sounded all across the flat and are headed for the kitchen. It’s perhaps that, that finally tips him off – Fili normally drops off his things and goes straight to the cooker to at least say hello.

They’re in the doorway and Kili wills his hands to stop trembling as he carefully lifts the planks of wood to cover the gap without making any sound.

 _It could be Fili_ , Kili reasons, heart pounding in his chest, _perhaps he’s forgotten something he needed and gone looking for it, or perhaps something happened and they were allowed to go home early_ –

But no, the heavy boots and determined pace sound nothing like the easy shuffle of Fili’s feet and by the time they stop in front of the range Kili realises that to make the smallest sound, even to breathe deeper is to betray himself.

_“ - they will kill you.”_

The next thought is that they would kill Fili as well. To harbour a Jew is a capital offence.

_“I could just stay in the flat. Hide when you have visitors. Never go out. I’d be careful –“_

_“No, Kili. I’m sorry. It’s too dangerous. They do raids and late night searches and even those with nothing to hide aren’t always safe.”_

_He was right_ , he realises, gently pressing the second plank into the blunted nail that used to hold it in place. _He was right, and if he’d let me out, they’d find me now_.

The cat must be hiding somewhere too because the peace of the flat is undisturbed as the intruder seems to stand in place for a while, listening intently. Through the miniscule gap left between the planks Kili is able to see a man in his forties he’s never met before. He carries a big ring of keys, which makes him think that he must be the new janitor or the owner of the tenement, perhaps moved in after Kili was caught and dragged into the ghetto.

In his other hand the man carries a gun.

Kili knows fear, intimately, has been fearing for his life many times, but this is different, this waiting as intelligent eyes take in Fili’s pots and pans, leftover food on the range, table covered in random bits and pieces, hooks holding sacks of potatoes and onions and spare clothing.

Kili’s frozen, completely frozen in terror and so alone, as the stranger’s gaze slides right over his hiding spot and then up over the cabinet blocking it.

“Fucking rats,” the man mutters to himself before turning around to throw another look over a different part of the kitchen, before finally retreating and locking the door behind him.

Kili doesn’t move a muscle until many hours later the door opens again and familiar footsteps make their way into the kitchen.

Fili pauses, seeing the gap blocked up and if it was anybody else, they wouldn’t notice how his entire back goes rigid. Instead of betraying Kili’s hiding spot he takes a slow, meticulous stock of his kitchen, and then the rest of the flat, then checks the windows, making sure the curtains are still properly closed.

“Are you asleep?” He asks seemingly no one in particular in a low murmur in the middle of the room and Kili manages a small whimper.

Fili is by his side in an instant, removing the wood between them and grasping his hands as soon as he can.

“What happened?! Are you okay?”

Kili nods and presses his lips to that hand, finally allowing himself to shake, feeling like he can breathe again for the first time in hours. Something raises deep inside his chest, familiar and true, something so obvious that it stares him in the face, unnamed. He knows the safety of Fili’s hands and the fear in his eyes and Fili has never hidden anything from him, but perhaps now Kili is afraid to ask.

There used to be peace in Fili’s eyes, but it’s gone now, and it would be oh so easy to link it with the danger they are in, but right in that instant Kili feels like he was the one to have taken it away.

The next few hours will find Fili curled up in the floor listening and staying as close to Kili as he can without physically crawling into the pantry.

“He had the keys,” Kili hiccups, “he came here and stood for a long while and I couldn’t move. He had a gun. I thought – but I didn’t want to die, Fili! I’m sorry, but I didn’t. I don’t. I want to live! And I thought they would kill you too. And I couldn’t –“

Words trip over themselves, pour out in a senseless jumble that Fili only manages to decipher with an utmost effort.

They fall asleep like that: Fili on the dirty stone floor, which will cause him to wince and limp for real the next day, and Kili, pressed as close to his tiny window to the outside world as humanly possible.

In the months to come Kili will always find it ironic that a German trying to kill him, has in fact given him the appetite for life once again.

 

\---

 

It gets easier with time.

As days bleed into weeks that bleed into months, they do in fact find ways to make it work.

The cat adapts much faster than Kili does.

Having made some enquiries it turns out that she is in fact a girl. Within days she believes she owns both all of Fili’s flat and Kili’s cupboard, together with its inhabitants. At first they try to limit her to the flat proper, but once it becomes clear that she enjoys curling up next to Kili during the daytime for her nap, the dark-haired lad just gives up and lets her stomp her way over his chest and inside. It’s probably just that it’s quieter and darker in Kili’s pantry, but it feels good to have something alive next to him, something that will react to him at least from time to time.

That and she loves hunting spiders, the size of which make Kili’s hair stand on ends.

And then there are books.

The books, Kili sometimes thinks, are what keeps him sane. At first Fili lends him one of the few he has in his room, a dog eared murder mystery that Fili claims is ‘incredible’. Kili finds it preferable to the hours of mind-blowing boredom but if he was to spend his own coppers, it probably wouldn’t be his first choice.

He reads it all the same and then all the other books Fili has in the house, down to his mother’s cookbook. And then he reads those books once again, anything to occupy a mind that is slowly slipping.

It’s the greatest gift Kili was given in years, perhaps in all of his lifetime, when Fili slides down into his usual spot and hauls over a small stack of new books which Kili hasn’t seen before.

“How -?” he gasps, eyeing the volumes with unbridled desire.

“I signed up for a library membership. There is only one still open in town and a good way away, but I borrowed a bike at work today and made the trip.” Fili hesitates, but passes them over, one by one, through the gap. “I don’t know if I made the right selection, but I remembered that at school you liked anything technical, especially planes. And I have some historical ones, which… if you don’t like them, I will gladly read.”

Kili beams at him, running gentle fingers over the well-worn spines and inspecting each title separately, and for a moment he feels like he is once again _free_.

The books keep him sane and he will later realise that this little gesture on Fili’s part has saved his life. They are like windows into other worlds that Fili keeps opening for him, every time he brings him a new one. The world in the written word is still _normal_ and close to what Kili knows and remembers, and he clings to this normalcy, while surrounded by anything but.

As the autumn slips into winter they bond over books. Fili likes watching Kili describe some of the better bits he has read that day, or create theories of his own about how the book might end. Very quickly Kili gets a clear idea about what he likes to read and what he doesn’t, although he allows Fili to bring him some surprises from time to time, which he wouldn’t have thought of himself. In doing this, the blond rediscovers his friend, a man now in the place of a lad he’s known.

Kili likes Dumas and is gutted when there are no more books to be had about his favourite Musketeers. Then he switches to Daniel Defoe and reads his way through _Robinson Crusoe_ in record time. They spend many long winter evenings talking about what it would be like if they were shipwrecked on a desert island, how they would build their life and how they’d try to save themselves.

But Kili’s absolute favourite author is Julius Verne. His books take him almost to the spring, by the sheer number of the titles that exist. The _Mysterious Island_ is of course one of the first, recommended to Fili by the nice librarian lady, but ultimately it’s the _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea_ that captures his imagination the most.

He reads it several times over and quite often Fili finds him propped up comfortably against the warm wall next to the range, the cat in his lap getting absent-minded ear scratches and Kili flicking through the pages.

It’s amusing, in a way: when they were kids there were always more interesting things to do than reading books, but now they both find solace in just reading side by side.

Neither is sure when exactly they start reading for each other out loud. They think it’s Kili who asked first, but soon it becomes a way of telling each other stories they find interesting, a way of grounding themselves in each other’s voice.

Outside the war wages on, entering its fourth year, and people die and food becomes scarce, but inside Fili’s flat they have found a way to be together in this one small way, with no more actual contact between them than the ten-inch gap into the old coal-storage cupboard.


	6. The Battle of Our Lives

 

_Summer 1944_

 

 

The second raid on their home takes place late at night during the summer of 1944 and is far more vicious than the first one.

Fili freezes mid-sentence through _Montezuma’s Daughter_ by Haggard as the front door is kicked down under the sturdy boots of the SS.

In that single second it could all be over, and somehow everything, fear included, becomes completely irrelevant compared to the crystal clear realisation that he must protect Kili, whatever the cost.

He doesn’t know where all this strength comes from; he only knows that to give his life for Kili’s would be cheap.

Things sharpen into focus rapidly, as his heart beats once, twice, splinters flying from the doorframe, heavy boots, decision made and –

_I love him._

He’s always known.

There isn’t the time to cast even a glance back towards Kili and instead he schools his face into a mask of disinterested surprise, wondering how long they had been standing outside. Whatever happens next, their cards have already been dealt and he can only play them out as best as he can in an attempt to save Kili’s life.

His mind is his only weapon against their misguided loyalty, thirst of blood and indiscriminate cruelty.

“Gentlemen. What can I help you with?” He starts pleasantly, placing a bookmark between the pages, some distant part of him wondering if the book will be left for Kili to pick up, later, once it’s all over.

There is no response, except they drag him to his feet and slam him against the table, before cold metal closes around his wrists behind his back.

Trapped.

It doesn’t matter.

“Search the house!”

He is pulled back up by his hair and held firmly in place by two soldiers on either side of him.

The pain only fuels his quiet rage.

They would come to his home and deal death.

Only now does he spot the officer, standing out by his black woollen coat and the markings on his hat.

“General Durin’s only son,” the man observes stoically, lighting his cigarette and blowing it in Fili’s face. “Well, this should be interesting. Your mother will be devastated when she hears the news.”

The man is a foot taller than Fili so he is forced to look way up, when he says, “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of you. But then again, you’re not that high in the hierarchy, _sergeant_.” His smile is _almost_ pleasant, a challenge and a provocation all in one.

Around them the flat is being pulled apart: bed sheets thrown out, Kili’s beloved books strewn across the carpet, plants overturned, glass shattered. _All of that is replaceable_ , Fili thinks, heart hammering in his chest as they move to inspect the kitchen.

 _Kili’s life isn’t_.

“Do you know why we’re here?” The man takes another drag and blows it in Fili’s face once again.

“Because you haven’t filled your quota of incompetence for this month?”

The snarky response earns him a punch to his stomach and Fili curls in on himself, grunting heavily. _The more attention is on me, the less there is on finding Kili_ he tells himself, strengthening and allowing some of his disdain for the soldier to show in his eyes.

 _I dare you_.

“The neighbours reported that they can hear you talking to someone.” The man starts walking around the kitchen, peering curiously into Fili’s pots. “Someone who has never been seen coming or going into your apartment. Certainly someone who wasn’t here before…”

 _Traitors_ , Fili thinks, and somewhere beside the steel core of his resolve there is a tiny flicker of regret that their _home_ , the very bricks that saw them grow up, are no longer safe. He had to assume, but he hates to be proven right, hates that this man can take that away from him.

“Aaaaah…” he drawls out deliberately to hide the hammering of his heart, “the mysterious conversations with a ghost. Let me introduce you to the fugitive I so wretchedly harbour, sergeant.” A slow breath and he feels like he’s about to plunge into the abyss, but he’s run out of time for half-measures and he must give them something solid – “Kili! Kili, you can come out now. It’s safe. Come out, baby!”

The soldiers around them pause, peering at him in confusion, one of them distracted from where he was just about to search the cupboard that blocks the hatch.

A heartbeat.

Another.

For a moment nothing happens and Fili tries to twist to see into his living room. He has never been into battle, but he imagines if he was to go to war, this would be the feeling he’d experience going over the trenches to charge at an invisible enemy among the cannonade of their guns.

Finally a streak of black and white shoots past them and Fili prays to the god he no longer believes in, that it won’t go for Kili’s cupboard. But the cat pauses in the middle of the carpet and instead decides to parade herself across the SS soldiers’ legs, rubbing her flanks into their shins and climbing over their shining black boots.

He saved the cat’s life. And now perhaps another life can be saved.

“She is such an attention seeker, like you wouldn’t believe,” he shrugs as best as he can with the cuffs still in place, because to keep his calm now is _everything_ , “so I like to read to her, it seems to calm her down.”

“From the floor.” Blue eyes, not unlike his own bore down into him as if they could crush him, and he finds it almost laughable how little the concept of race means to him, and deeply reassuring that he could never be like them, even if he sold his soul to the devil himself.

“The stove is still warm. It feels good against my back and Kili likes that particular spot for some reason.”

 _He doesn’t believe me_ , Fili thinks, but of course not, it’s too easy, but then this one was never a very good card to play. But the officer seems to enjoy the tease, like a predator that has hunted down his prey, and Fili can only hope that the quiet defiance he’s allowed himself to display will be enough to satisfy him regardless of whether he finds what he came for or not.

“That’s an unusual name for a cat.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He lets some of the hatred he feels show in his face, just a little bit more, just a bit more genuine, before he responds: “Reminds me of a boy I once knew, long gone now.”

A small triumphant smile to that, and it’s painfully obvious just how mismatched they are, how the man has done this sort of thing hundreds of times, while for Fili it’s a first. He takes another drag and steps closer, right into Fili’s personal space. The soldiers continue their search, but now with far less interest and zeal, which saves quite a few of Fili’s plates.

“Fili Durin. Your father has made quite a name for himself. It’s a pity that you couldn’t follow in his footsteps.”

For an insane fraction of a second Fili thinks that by some miracle the soldier _knows_ , what he hasn’t told a single soul: that Kili was in the forge that night, that he saw, and why Fili had to do what he did.

He hesitates and gives, just a little bit, when he says, “Yes, well, someone had to stay behind and continue to repair your carts, hinges and pots.”

“Indeed. The Reich would not succeed without your efforts,” the man scoffs and for a moment Fili thinks that he will get punched in the face, but he seems to change his mind. “I am given to understand that there was an accident in your forge, conveniently just before you should have been conscripted –?“

And so perhaps, they have come for _Fili_ after all.

“But you know what I think? I think you’re just a little coward hiding behind your daddy’s back. I think you don’t have the guts to do what needs to be done.”

He bites back the response on the very tip of his tongue about the courage required to slaughter thousands of innocents and instead gives the man his most pleasant smile, the one with dimples that sometimes has people dropping things they hold in their hands. “Well sergeant, unless you’re planning on arresting my cat and taking her to your SS commando leader branded a filthy Jew, I suggest you get out of my house.” He hisses, low and tired of playing with death, “For I am many things, but I am _not_ a coward.”

And this at least is true.

He doesn’t back down, nor take his eyes off the soldier. He’s much smaller than any of the commando, but he’s broad in his shoulders and he’s held his own in a brawl before. More importantly, what he has learned from such a brawl is the fact that people are far less likely to pick a fight with someone who firmly believes they would win, no matter how improbable the odds. He uses this now, his eyes blazing and narrowed, and it seems to work when the sergeant gives a tiny nod to one of his men and he feels hands on his back removing the cuffs.

He rubs his wrists and it’s that little mistake of taking his eyes off the officer that costs him dearly when a blow to his face stuns him and makes him go down to the floor. He tastes blood in his mouth, spits it out and curls up just as a heavy boot kicks him in the ribs once, twice, three times.

“I could kill you just for that, you know.” The man standing above him says, thoroughly disinterested in his woollen black coat and little marks of death about his person. “If you think I actually need a reason, you can think again.”

Another kick. He has perhaps crossed the line, but _they don’t care about Kili now_ , he thinks, _they only want me_.

“- But you know what?” the man continues and there are footsteps around him, moving towards the door at some unspoken command. “I think it would be amusing to watch a cripple like you struggle to keep up with the rest of the Reich. The progress is coming, Durin, and I’m not so sure you’ll get to be a part of it.”

A breath, then another, and the painful spasm of his muscles.

He is a bit surprised when they actually close the broken door behind them but then he remembers the stories of people caught because they were being watched through the keyhole after they rushed to check on whatever illegal activity they were undertaking once they thought the danger had passed. It’s hard to peep when the door is wide open.

 _Kili is fine, he’s alive_ he reasons, gathering himself up from the floor, shaking his head to get rid of the ringing in his ears. The cat, in an unusual display of sympathy, comes up to him and tries to climb over his lap and behind him, purring soothingly. “It’s okay baby, I’m alright. You won’t be dying of starvation just yet.” He offers seemingly to the cat and then throws enough of a disoriented look around his kitchen to notice that Kili had at least managed to block up the gap with the planks.

As much as he longs to make sure he is okay, instead he goes for a bowl of water so he can clean up, and presses a cool metal surface of one of his pans to his bruised ribs, hissing through the contact.

They are both alive. They’ve won today.

The adrenaline is deafening in his ears and he feels a bit dizzy with the weight of the responsibility on his shoulders.

But it doesn’t feel like a victory at all when Fili spends another twenty four hours avoiding the cupboard, just in case, and so horribly alone without the strength drawn from the intelligent brown eyes.

 

\---

 

The silence is deafening.

They haven’t shot him, but Kili is rapidly arriving at the conclusion that this isn’t necessarily the worst that could happen to him.

He listens to Fili fighting a lone, losing battle, trapped and unable to help.

He knows the concern in Fili’s eyes and gentle care and fear and maybe something – something else he can’t name.

He would let those tender hands put him into a coffin, nail it shut and bury him alive, if that’s what Fili thought they had to do.

Perhaps they _will_ , one day.

He trusts his friend implicitly.

But he would suffer. He would try to hide it from Fili, make sure he didn’t feel guilty for the fear of the stupid things he might do, but it’s a very fine line between safety and sanity.

It’s like going blind after years of being able to see clearly, and to be this close to his friend but never close _enough_ –

He wants to _breathe_. He hasn’t forgotten how too _feel_ , he hasn’t lost his appetite for life, if anything, he’s so much hungrier now, when they would deny him the right.

There is a world outside the cold bricks that hide him and sometimes he feels like he will claw at them until his nails split and fingers break, but he is outside.

It’s unthinkable that everything he knows, everything he considers _his_ world, and can’t stop himself longing for, is gone. Even his family home – four flights of stairs down, outside, two staircases further, the third door on the left on the ground floor – now in the hands of another family and he’s sure that nothing is the same in there.

It was unthinkable four years ago too, that people could design such a fate for others, until he saw it with his own eyes behind the tall walls of the ghetto.

But Kili also remembers what it was like to be free.

He remembers exploring the city; the streets, the alleyways, shops – all of it still out there. He remembers several school trips to the countryside, on a train, through the lush greenery so beautiful that they couldn’t peel their eyes from the windows.

Kili thinks if he had a choice he would be an explorer. Perhaps that’s why he likes Verne so much? There is a pull in anonymity, in new places, new people, adventures and the prospect of perhaps, one day, a new home. He’d take Fili and they’d -

It’s interesting that in those few decadent moments when he allows himself to think about the future, every variant his mind conjures, always involves Fili.

Kind eyes and ready laughter growing rare these days, broad hands he wants to hold and a soft voice that has the power to erase the nightmares.

Familiar as breathing, and yet as precious as oxygen.

Something warm and fragile wrapped up in memories of playing kings and knights under the stairs, of rolling on fresh grass, of Fili curled up quietly on the ottoman in the back of Kili’s shop with a textbook and looking up each time Kili bounced in to say hi.

They used to be so unbelievably free, he and Fili.

The same Fili that is currently _bleeding_ for him.

Kili can hear the soft involuntary grunt, when Fili is hit by the officer. His muscles tense as there is a heavy thud and then something wet hits the floor. More blows, their sounds muffled to a dull echo by the fabric of clothes and skin.

He closes his eyes and breathes, slowly, quietly, through the almost physical pain of helplessness.

It’s a curious feeling, almost detached, this cold fury blooming inside him, this need to hurt and avenge – every bruise that has ever marred Fili’s skin, every drop of blood on his kitchen floor.

If someone had given him the gun right then, Kili would have shot the officer without the slightest regard for his life being forfeit.

He wonders, distantly, how much more of this he will be able to take before he snaps.

Fili. _His_ Fili.

For a moment he is ten again throwing himself in front of a bleeding blond boy two years older, who dared to hang out with the Jewish kid. A broken nose and a dislocated finger was the price back then, laughably little compared to now, but –

“Kili! Kili, they’re gone!” Familiar hands on either side of his face, rubbing at the smudges of blood on his chin. They ended up limping back home together.

It seemed the more the world was able to throw at them, the stronger they grew. They have fought their way out ever since, always had each other’s back.

Except now Kili can’t.

And really, the _only_ thought stopping him is that they would kill Fili too.

Eventually the SS soldiers leave and he shifts carefully to peer through the cracks at the figure heavily pulling himself to his feet from the carpet.

“it’s okay, baby –“ he says, for Kili’s benefit of course, but –

The anger never leaves. And when he’s run out of enemies, he’s got no one left to fight but himself.

He can’t get out. Can’t help, can’t protect, can’t be of use, he just - _is_.

A thousand apologies, as if any of this was Fili’s fault, heated whispers and hands in his hair, and this _thing_ between them, whatever it is, laid bare and raw, and _almost_ allowed words.

It’s both more and less nowadays, _more_ because perhaps he understands better, perhaps he finally knows himself enough to find the answers to the questions that kept him in the city when Fili urged him to run; _Less_ because he’s little more than a caged animal now, and who could ever want that?

Something is wrong still, because Fili doesn’t come to him, and universally, between them, they understand that it isn’t safe. Slowly, with utmost care, he lowers himself down, head against the pillow and his eyes trained on the tiny crack through which he can just about make out the brown fabric of Fili’s well-worn trousers, golden fuzz trailing down his stomach and the water dripping to the floor in front of him.

Something winds tightly inside his chest, has been curling there for a while now and one day it will recoil like a spring.

Regret is the worst.

Anger is familiar, a constant companion; fear, he’s known most of his life; despair that seems to have no cure except when he finds it in Fili’s eyes; but regret he can’t defend himself against, and Fili can’t save him either, because everything bitter in Kili’s life is directly linked to what he truly cares about most.


	7. The Ten-Inch Gap

_ _

 

_Autumn - Winter 1944_

 

 

Kili learns the rhythm of Fili’s commitments.

His work, the forge, the library, occasional shopping trip. He wraps his life around those commitments, or perhaps they both wrap their lives around each other. The need to spend every waking hour together stems from something deep and familiar, and with time Kili learns that Fili is just as lonely without him as he is.

When they aren’t reading, they talk, for hours, in low voices.

Little things at first, they recall their adventures as children, the memories soothing and familiar. Then Kili wants to know about the people they once knew, the families in their tenement, the kids they went to school with. Those are bittersweet, but there is this need to know, to share between them, and for Kili to catch up on the years of life he has lost.

It takes weeks before Kili brings up the incident in the forge, before he admits how scared he was that Fili was going to bleed out to death before anyone could find him, and how he hid when he heard footsteps, fearing that they would think he attacked Fili.

“I thought you were insanely brave,” he says, looking into calm blue eyes, narrowed with a gentle smile, “but also incredibly stupid.”

There is laughter at that and Fili describes his awakening in the hospital and weeks and months of struggle to get the nerves and muscles patched back up. He shows Kili the scar and when Kili looks almost ashamed he says, “don’t be. It reminded me of you and why I chose to do it.”

It takes several months before Kili brings up the topic of the ghetto. It starts with only the little details sneaking into the conversation, but once the floodgates have been opened it all just kind of pours out of him. In halted sentences, in images of casual destruction and the miniscule things that made life bearable.

He talks of walking his sister to school they had secretly set up in a cellar and collecting her after, just to make sure she was safe. An elderly man, non-Jewish, who used to live on the other side of the wall from the room they have been forced to inhabit, who used to play piano music for the benefit of the ones trapped inside. The messages they used to tie to rocks and throw across the wall to anybody who dared pick them, begging for help, for medicines, for contact with family, just to confirm they were still alive.

Kili never got Fili’s message and never dared to write one for him, not prepared to risk Fili’s loyal façade for the sake of letting him know he still lived.

He pauses when he sees tears rolling down the blond’s cheeks.

“Fili?”

“I’m sorry. I never knew,” he looks away and there is regret on his face, “If I knew what it was like, I would have fought to get you out, I swear! I would have dismantled that wall brick by brick if it came to that. I never did enough,” he whispers, and then: “all those people…”

“It’s not your fault! None of it is your fault! You saved me, Fili! You are saving me now!”

He surges up before he can process what he is doing, an arm shooting out to grab the front of Fili’s shirt and dragging him down. Their lips meet awkwardly, painfully in the middle of the gap and all Kili knows is that he sees suffering where he can’t bear to see it, and he must erase it in any way he can.

For a moment, when he’s processed what he’s done, he is mortified. To be a Jew is one thing, but to be _this_ …

He thinks he’s always known, on some level.

It has never been a conscious decision to love Fili, but they’ve always been inseparable and it was the only thing that made any sense in Kili’s world, the only thing he ever selfishly wanted for himself. It grew inside him, delicate and fragile, out of the way they have always moved together, the way their hands were never shy, or the way they could read a thousand things in a single look.

It’s who he is, and he can’t separate it from himself any more than he could separate his heritage.

He remembers trying to let it go in the ghetto, trying to let _Fili_ go.

He accepted his own death long before he could accept that he would never have Fili, that likely they would never even see each other again.

He buried that pain deep inside his soul and with that he buried himself. And then he merely went through the motions of life, interrupted by the tedious bursts of adrenaline when he had to run, or when the ghetto wall was blown up.

And then Fili was back in his life, unfair and wonderful, and he carefully nursed his injured heart, patched it up as best as he could with whatever contact he could get.

It was enough, he thought.

Now though -

He almost pulls back, thinking that if Fili throws him out, Kili will understand, but if he has also destroyed the friendship they had with this one single act of reckless need, then he will –

It’s a gentle hand around his elbow that stops him, thumb stroking the skin soothingly and tugging him back close. He tries to read the expression in Fili’s blue eyes, needs to _know_ , needs to see for himself, but it’s dark and they only kept minimal light.

“No. Don’t run,” a whisper against his lips, “We’ve lost too much already, wasted too much time. Please,” and then Fili is kissing him, properly this time, tilting his head and easing them both into it slowly.

Some final piece in the structure of the universe clicks into place and for the first time Kili feels like he has something to live _for_.

Fili’s lips are a bit dry and his beard scratches Kili’s chin, the strands of hair framing Fili’s face tickling his cheek, and he wishes he could take that beloved face in his hands but the gap isn’t wide enough. Instead they sink and sink and sink into the kiss, adjusting angles, licking into each other mouths, searching for acceptance and refuge, and a little bit of pleasure, finding a rhythm of give and take.

It’s quiet, tiny and intimate, _theirs_ ; grown strong through the soft words and endless topics, the easy camaraderie, laughter and the insane need to protect each other, whatever the cost.

They part, breathe, tremble a little in the near-complete darkness, too close to see, but it’s _enough_ , it’s _everything_ , it’s the unspoken _I’ve got you_.

 _Love_ in the ten-inch gap between the dirty wall and a kitchen cabinet.

“Kili…” Soft, so soft and nobody has ever spoken to him this way, like he was the most precious thing in the whole world.

“You have done _enough_.”

Fili hesitates then, searching his eyes, and it’s unthinkable how much it must cost him, when he says, “You don’t have to – You don’t owe me _anything_. I don’t want you to think that –“

He’s always made sure they were safe. And right now, when they have gambled their highest stakes yet, he’s trying to do it again, offering Kili an out, offering to untangle them while there is still time. Protecting Kili, even if it means protecting him from himself.

“We could be dead tomorrow,” Kili murmurs and he may not be able to run his fingertips against Fili’s face like he wants to, but at least he manages to rest his palm against Fili’s neck, feel his pulse there, galloping and terrified. “But if you love me, I will have lived.”

“I think I always have. Even before, I thought –“ lips chasing lips, mere ghosts of a contact and Kili never wanted out of the cupboard as much as he wants now.

“Me too. I - even the ghetto couldn't take it away from me.”

They press their foreheads together and simply breathe for a while, trying to wrap their heads around this newfound sense of belonging.

Then a chuckle that grows into laughter, when they realise that it’s not so much that they want to live, it’s that they want to live _together_.

And that is enough for now. That is plenty, when their jagged, jaded edges are matched rather than chipping away against each other.

They will kiss many times more, but they will always remember that first one, like a leap of faith in a time when god has died, or perhaps just stopped caring.

 

\---

 

Being in love with his best friend in a war-torn country is both terrifying and easily the most wonderful thing that has happened to Fili in all of his life.

When he first saw that flash of turquoise in the dark hair and his heart beat to the rhythm of _please, let me be right about this_ , when he allowed his instinct to snatch Kili away from death seconds before it came, he could have sobbed with relief and gratitude for this one tiny, miniscule chance he was given.

The only thing that comes close to that feeling is the awkward press of Kili’s lips against his. That Kili would want this – that he would ask for it and look at him like _that_ , is his greatest treasure. The memory protects him, shines bright in his mind as he walks through the streets that become cemeteries, among people hollow with hatred.

It’s like Kili said: if they never see the end of the war, to know that they loved will be enough.

But it isn’t as easy as that.

Sometimes he thinks that he has taken from Kili the last thing of his own he had left – his heart. And with it the freedom, not in the physical sense, although that eats away at him too, but the freedom of his spirit – the last thing they haven’t managed to strip him of. He thinks of the lone figure, lit only by the candle light, wrapping his arms around himself against the chill and waiting for him, patiently, always.

The choices he will make because he _loves_ , make Fili’s heart pound in alarm.

Then, there is the world around them and the good old fashioned guilt. The families he has known since he was a child, torn apart by war and death, trying to cope with loss and not always succeeding. One of the young girls in the library, her eyes always red because she fell for a pilot and he will never come back.

The casual disappearance of faces.

And love, always, ignorant of the circumstances they live in.

Everybody is somebody’s everything and Fili and his tiny, buddying relationship feels so insignificant against it all.

Because why should the two of them be happy when so many thousands around them are not allowed? Sometimes he feels like he’s a selfish coward, daring to be happy deep inside his soul, daring to want to laugh and dance and scream ‘he is mine!’

Finally, the helplessness and fear. Kili’s life in his hands and so much chance, so much danger, so little control he has. Nobody has found his pantry yet, but it feels like it’s only a matter of time, like the noose is tightening and he’s going insane with it. He remembers the trust in Kili’s eyes and he grits his teeth because he can’t tell if he’s deserved it.

It’s like being in a constant battle, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

So instead he focusses on the world outside and looks out for every scrap of news that might help them.

By early autumn 1944 the army is struggling. The first of the German cities are besieged and taken and for the first time Fili considers the possibility that the same fate might befall their home city. They spend some time talking about this, wondering if they might be able to get out, into the countryside and further, towards the borders.

But any escape is impossible – the city is no less in the grip of the army than it was nearly a year ago, so to move Kili would surely mean his capture and death. But even if they were to risk it and even if by some miracle they made it outside of the city gates, they would be out in an unknown terrain, with no hope of help from anyone and nowhere to go. The borders are on fire, with the offensive closing in, and no hope of crossing the enemy lines to the civilian side.

Out of the two evils they prefer to hole up at home and if the troops enter the streets, wait it out.

With that plan in mind Fili starts slowly building up a stock of supplies – mainly canned food and non-perishables by falsifying the stock records. It is a risk of course, but one he believes is worth it now.

It’s in the course of this activity that Fili discovers a box of travelling permit forms and without thinking twice, helps himself to a handful. It takes them some time to figure out what the correct way to fill that form is, but they manage.

For the first time in years he sees Kili’s pleased-with-himself, mischievous grin and feels a corresponding one stretching his own face.

It takes longer still to arrange a contact with one of the very few people in the city, who, like Fili, are prepared to help. It turns out that the permit is only one of the three documents required to cross borders; it’s a little out of date, but they reckon with the chaos of war, not all areas will be aware off the updates.

The papers are still priceless and could easily mean the difference between life and death.

So Fili helps himself to half the box, before carefully tucking it back in place within the depths of their store room.

Kili is of course his first candidate for what amounts to a visa, because regardless of what they decide, such papers are good to have under any circumstances. But Kili was snatched right from the street, which means that he doesn’t have his birth certificate or any other proof of ID, so the other two documents are unattainable in the immediate future.

But this doesn’t mean that others can’t benefit from the little scheme they have hatched.

It is dangerous of course, especially handing them over, but he is well aware that each crisp sheet of paper might save a life, so he spends his evenings meticulously filling in the fields with dates, places and false identities.

Fili will never know this, but his hard work will save twenty seven lives during the last year of the war.


	8. The Linen Sheets That Smell Of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No header this time, but we do instead have a song illustration for this chapter!
> 
> Found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hK4W8WGQ6SY

_Winter 1944 - 1945._

 

 

It’s been nearly a year.

A year in the grubby cupboard that has become his home. If he has learned one thing during the war, it’s that material things are not important, but the pantry does contain everything that still means anything to Kili: his books, a fairly comfortable mattress and covers, his cat. That little wooden toy soldier they used to play with when they were little, which Fili found stashed in a box somewhere and brought to him, trying to cheer him up.

In truth however, Kili has only survived this long in the few square meters he’s got available because of Fili’s voice. Fili’s hands in his hair, his kind eyes looking at him intelligently, listening to what he’s got to say, his quiet laughter.

By the time he realises he’s in love, the damage has been done. His heart wants Fili, all of him, wants to be a person that Fili can love back.

They say their good-nights and he listens to Fili shuffling around a little bit more, stripping and getting to bed, the last sounds that Kili catalogues in his mind to ward off the solitude ahead.

And then then there is silence again and Kili closes his eyes and tries not to scream.

At least Fili is still there, he tells himself, imagines he can hear his soft breaths and sometimes, if he’s lucky, he does get to hear Fili’s snores. He pulls Kili the cat to his chest and strokes the soft fur, inhales the smell she carries, the smell of _home_.

“Don’t leave me alone,” he whispers half to the cat, half into the uncaring darkness, and curls up for another long night.

He holds himself together.

For Fili.

Sometimes he can hear Fili toss and turn and mutter in his sleep. He has nightmares from time to time, once or twice he even screams, but he won’t speak of them with anyone, not even Kili. He’s seen this sort of thing before of course, with people forced to fight fear, strength of the character against constant danger.

Kili thinks it’s his fault.

Fili would be perfectly safe is not for harbouring a Jew.

It gets worse the more in love he falls, to the point where he’s dying to go over there, to comfort Fili, just to be allowed to stay close. He imagines sitting on Fili’s bed, gently shaking him awake. Imagines pressing their foreheads together and murmuring words of comfort, and perhaps apologies, and above all, the words of love. He’d kiss away the fear and slip into the bed alongside him, wrap his arms around Fili and never let him go.

But he can’t, and instead they remain separated by the twenty feet or so that threaten to destroy Kili’s soul.

He knows it gets bad when he catches himself not caring. It becomes a struggle to sweep up the floor, to flip the page of the book, to wash. He sinks further into himself, wrapped tightly around that tiny corner of his mind that pulses with love and he will let himself disintegrate before he lets anything touch that one precious truth.

The day he finds it difficult to maintain a conversation with Fili one evening, he knows he has to fight, right now, or he will lose himself forever.

In the end it comes out as a whisper:

“Please, let me out.”

He has asked a thousand times before of course, but Fili always shook his head sadly, apologised, but kept him safe. It has saved Kili’s life at least twice so far, but it’s hard to tell which one of them paid the higher price for each refusal.

Now however, the monsters are real and he needs something, _anything_ to keep him sane.

“I don’t care if - Please, Fili…”

It must be something in his voice, something broken and desperate, because Fili watches him quietly for a moment, takes in his limp hair, pale skin and a single tear running down his cheek which Kili can barely feel, and slowly, cautiously nods.

“Can you wait another ten minutes?”

Kili closes his eyes and allows himself to tremble, feeling a gentle kiss pressed to his forehead. He wants to laugh: he has waited months. Yes, he can wait another ten minutes.

With that Fili is gone and out of the flat and for a handful of terrible seconds Kili thinks that he’s left him and will never come back. He fights down the fear, lets his head thud heavily against the warm brick wall, closes his eyes and catches the faint sounds of the water pump in the backyard.

The whole thing probably only takes moments, but for Kili the next minutes are one of the longest in his life. Eventually there is a sound of something heavy scraping against the floor as Fili moves the cupboard and then the hatch opens, flooding the darkness with the last of the dying daylight.

Kili is terrified.

He has waited so long and now he thinks that the wooden floor of Fili’s kitchen might as well on the other side of the world for him. He can’t explain it. There is something in his mind holding him back, telling him he can’t, that he isn’t strong enough, that he will be a disappointment.

“Kili?” Fili’s face appears within the damned rectangle of golden light, setting his hair ablaze and twinkling playfully in the blue eyes and Kili has never seen anything this beautiful in his life. Fili smiles and – “Come on love, I’ve got no red carpet for you, I’m afraid.” No judgement and endless patience in his eyes when he says, “Take my hand.”

And Kili does. He would, always, and as soon as his fingers close tight around Fili’s he has forgotten his fear.

He stumbles heavily of course, his legs not used to holding him upright anymore and he can see how this will be a problem for a while, but Fili catches him easily, taking most of his weight.

He hides in those broad shoulders, takes in Fili’s scent, wraps himself around him and slowly allows his emotions to wash over him.

Heartbeat against heartbeat, the years together, the years apart, their dreams, the only future still worth something, and yearning, always, so much yearning and _don’t leave me alone_ whispered in the dark.

“I love you.” It comes out on a sob and not at all like how he imagined his first chance to hold Fili properly.

“And I love _you_ ,” softly, and he can hear the truth in that gentle murmur. “ _My_ Kili…”

A hand in his hair, another on his waist, and it’s the cure, he realises, as the words sink into his heart and banish the treacherous thoughts.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up a bit, hm?” there is a chuckle in that voice, but not unkind, and he falls in love all over again with the scrunch of Fili’s nose.

The ten minutes Fili wanted suddenly make sense when Kili is faced with a bathroom steamy from the hot water filing the metal basin on the floor to the brim.

“I thought it could help you relax. And if we’re going to risk it, let’s at least make it worth it, I thought,” Fili’s dimples make a rare appearance.

“What if – what if somebody finds out?” Because Kili isn’t sure he’s prepared to accept what this means for Fili.

For a moment there is silence before the blond answers quietly: “They will kill me alongside with you. And you will never have to be alone again.”

“Fili -!”

“No, it’s okay,” a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m tired of running, Kili; tired of watching you suffer. I never wanted this for you. Perhaps it is time we lived a little, rather than just surviving.”

Kili looks away then, fighting for a moment to try and argue, but he knows if he goes back now, he will lose the person Fili loves.

It’s about courage. And if Fili can be brave for him, then Kili will be brave too.

“Do you want me to leave you in peace for this?

“Stay.” Brown eyes meet blue.

“Alright.”

It’s too fragile, too precious, too new between them still to force themselves apart.

 

\---

 

Kili hasn’t had a bath in close to two years and if there is one thing capable of making him feel vaguely human again, this is it.

He will never forget the moment he sinks into that hot water: the warmth slowly seeping into his bones, his muscles releasing, breaths turning deeper from all the steam in the air. He feels light-headed watching Fili move around, prepare fresh towels and pull his own shirt over his head and off, giving him a slow, pleased smile.

He sits behind him on a low stool with a wet cloth, but for a moment there is only silence.

“Oh Kili…”

Kili curls up with shame when Fili carefully touches some of the flea-bites he knows are littering his back. He hides behind his hair and allows some of the hot tears to run down his cheeks. He thinks the cat had the fleas first, but in the end it doesn’t matter; he feels like a filthy mongrel, twitching away from Fili’s touch.

Only –

“Shhhh… we’ll sort it out,” and a kiss to his temple and Fili taking his hand in his own and squeezing. “Think you can scoot back a bit and let me submerge you completely for a little while?”

He goes under willingly, the water washing away the tears, and feeling strangely at peace with Fili’s hand against his breastbone, pushing him down just enough to keep him there. He feels protected, loved and cocooned when Fili helps him resurface to catch his breath and then gently presses him down again.

They repeat this several times, before Kili sits up again, starts scrubbing furiously at his skin and Fili picks up a fine comb they only used on the cat several times.

They change the water twice before they are done and Kili tilts his head back submitting himself to the last careful tugs of the comb through his now clean and snag-free hair. The water has cooled down, but he doesn’t mind, content instead under Fili’s soothing ministrations.

“It’s gotten long,” Fili muses. “I could cut it for you, if you wanted.”

“Leave it,” lazy and satisfied and he likes his hair as it is because Fili’s hair is also long and the childish part of him takes it as a contest.

He looks at Fili upside down, watches him grin and get up to fetch the towels.

 

\---

 

They stumble outside together and Kili throws one panicked glance at the yawning chasm of the cupboard hatch visible through the kitchen door and –

“No! Please –“

“Shhhhhh… Not in there,” emphasised by a gentle tug of an arm around his waist. “I thought you’d prefer my bed tonight. If you wanted? Of course we could put on fresh sheets in my old room if –“

“No, please…” he repeats, quieter now. “I just want to stay with you.”

It’s the most wonderful feeling when they fall on top of the bed tangled together, not caring. The sheets are only simple linen, but they smell like Fili and he burrows deep into the decadent feeling of being surrounded by the smell synonymous with safety and love.

He watches Fili chuckle when Kili pulls the duvet all the way up to his nose and kicks the towel away from under the covers.

“Sorry, if I knew I was having a late night visitor I would have changed the sheets,” Fili starts cheerfully, oblivious to the needs of Kili’s heart and gets a scowl in return. “Do you want - I could get you some sleeping clothes if you like?” He tries instead, the tips of his ears perhaps a bit more pink than before as he slips reluctantly away to pad to the big tiled stove in the corner and add some fresh coals to the glittering embers.

“Get back over here,” Kili orders, ignoring the question altogether, because he never cared about nudity before and he’s not about to start now.

Fili chuckles again, as if he was twelve again and not a self-respecting twenty-something-year-old adult, but it sounds relieved; relieved that nothing’s changed between them.

In those first few minutes, irrationally, gleefully, it feels like the best sleepover they were never allowed before.

They scoot close and hiss at the cold toes and poorly placed hands until they are completely, tightly wrapped around each other and the world is suddenly whole again. It’s _perfect_ , it’s everything Kili dreamt of for months and they are so much more together than they are apart.

 _He’s mine_ , he thinks selfishly, eyes narrowed and pressing closer still, feeling slightly drunk for the amount of soft skin he suddenly has access to.

It’s hard to tell which one of them initiates the first kiss, but soon there are dozens, hundreds and soft gasps, chasing lips, awkward neck angles and hands in their hair.

Words turn into murmurs, inconsequential but oh so necessary, just _Kili_ and _wanted this -_ and _hush now_ and _love_ and _mine_ and _hold me_ and _always_ and _Fili_ and _we have time_.

They touch, _finally, years of waiting_ , immediately, trying to meld into one – hands splayed over the long expanses of the back, fingers running through crinkly chest hair, tracing collarbone, pressing gently against heartbeat. A firm grasp of one hip too-sharp, rolling and pressing, skin against skin and a curious cartography of the spinal ridge.

With a slow smile Kili licks at one of the dimples, succeeding in making them deepen when Fili smiles wider, closely resembling their spoilt cat - a trick that Kili has learned in the ten-inch gap he had available.

He grins at that too, patiently withstanding playful nips to the corner of his mouth and Fili’s beard trying to give his chin Chinese burns.

They are content, like they have never been content before, happy even, in that soft, precious way, but this is all they want for now. It’s not about the pleasure and satisfaction of the flesh – it’s about healing of their souls. There is still this sense that this is far more important, and _not yet, not like this_ echoes in their thoughts, as they whimper and pant and mouths find the strong curve of a jawline or the fluttering pulse on the neck.

“Kili –“ Fili resurfaces for a moment, because the room has warmed up now and everything feels cosy. He looks gorgeous like that – all flushed, lips swollen, hair in disarray and pupils blown.

 _I’ve done that_ , Kili thinks with savage satisfaction, inhales more of that glorious scent and tugs him down like a brat, twisting his finger round one curling damp strand of hair, until he can reign more destruction on the normally respectable and well-groomed personal image Fili insists on maintaining.

“ _My_ Kili…” Fili rumbles breathlessly when he’s allowed some air again, staring at his best friend in his arms and there is such a sense of wonder in his eyes that it makes Kili choke back a breath. It’s ever so easy to think that all this time he was the only one suffering and trapped and oh so horribly alone. But for Fili his flat was no less of a prison, no less of a torment to be this close, but not close _enough_ , and he never said a word.

Eventually their kisses devolve into the lazy and happy ones and the tactility of their touches relaxes into precious familiarity. The rain starts somewhere in the distance, gathers strength and finally starts drumming against the battered roof tiles of the tenement in a sound they have known and shared their entire life.

 

\---

 

“Aren’t you going to sleep sometime?” Fili huffs, swimming pleasantly in that hazy world between the reality and dream, feeling the skin over his ribs treated to tender strokes, because that small corner of him hasn’t, apparently, been lavished with enough attention yet.

He’s almost ticklish there, _almost_ , but even if he was, he thinks he could learn to live with Kili’s teasing fingers.

“Nah,” comes a muffled response as Kili nuzzles his nose into the crook of his neck and some part of Fili is surprised that Kili hasn’t thought to lick him there yet. “This is _my_ time. Just for _me_. Tomorrow you will lock me back up and there will be whole day to be slept away, but right now I have you.”

Fili opens his eyes at that.

“Kili –“

“Shhhh… I understand. I truly do. I know the risk, to both of us. Just… when I really need it, listen to me. Let me have this. And I’ll be alright.”

They press their foreheads together and breathe, sharing the same air, like they so often do, letting themselves sink back into the world of closeness they have created.

It becomes their little ritual, in the end. One they repeat every several weeks – a night stolen for themselves.

And for a time, this is enough. For a time they are happy like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr: http://linane-art.tumblr.com/


	9. I Never Once Cared For A Life Without You

 

_Spring 1945_

 

 

The third raid on Fili’s flat isn’t a raid at all.

It’s far too systematic, starts several blocks away, when they hear the first gunshots.

Kili stumbles in his reading and they share a look before Fili scrambles to his feet to peer through the gap in his drawn curtains. The streets are empty, but then it’s close to the curfew. Whatever it is, it is still a fair bit away.

“Fili?”

“Nothing so far,” he whispers back, frantically thinking of Kili’s safety.

They could probably still move, but not outside the tenement, he doesn’t think. He considers the cellar and the coal shoots, the forge, but reasons that if it was him, he’d check those first. Roof space is inaccessible, except through the top floor flat, so that’s not an option either.

Which means they’re trapped inside the flat.

He mentally goes over every tiny crevice where he could squeeze Kili in, even if only just for a few hours.

He doesn’t think there’s anywhere safer than the pantry.

“Okay, listen,” his mind made, Fili is on a mission to fortify and mask Kili’s position as best as possible, “scoot into the back, the corner by the stove wall should be the safest. Fold the mattress away as best as you can. I’m going to nail the hatch shut for now, and those two loose planks as well. I’ll get you out once it’s safe, but I’m leaving a spare hammer with you inside, in case – Well, just in case.”

Kili nods, a frown on his face, but no fear.

The trust is absolute.

“And Kili?”

“Hm?”

“Whatever happens, I love you. I will always love you.”

They kiss as the shots get closer, awkwardly clinging to each other through the gap, before Fili puts some nails through what feels like his heart.

By the time the pounding sounds against his door, they are ready, or as ready as they can be.

He closes his eyes a second, and he hasn’t prayed in years, but if this is it for him, he prays only that Kili somehow makes it, before opening the door and stepping aside.

The soldiers pour in, but ignore him for the time being, until he is faced with the most unusual military man he has ever seen in his life. The man is _rounded_ in posture and is blowing his nose into a clean, neatly-edged handkerchief.

Fili stares, despite himself.

“Evening. Major Leopold Reisberg, the fifth _SS Sonderkommando_. We will be out of your hair in a moment. If you could just stand aside, this is merely a routine operation.” He gives Fili an apologetic smile and gently moves him out of the way as two soldiers rush past to open and inspect his shoe cabinet.

“Ah. Of course,” he decides to play along, somewhat put out. He was ready for a fight, but the man isn’t even impolite, and seems to be genuinely interested in moving on.

“Enjoying your well-earned leave, are you?” the officer engages pleasantly. “I wish they’d let me have a few days off. I’m from Ausburg. Could be back home within a few hours,” he chatters happily, strolling across the hallway and taking in the décor.

“No, unfortunately,” Fili limps after the man to get his point across. “I have tried to enlist, but the damn leg gave out just as I was going to pick my papers,” he offers a sad smile.

The officer peers at him sympathetically and pats his shoulder. “Perhaps it will heal, no? You might get your chance for glory yet,” he offers and Fili feels like he’s talking to some distant well-meaning uncle, who doesn’t really understand.

He jumps when there are two shots in the flat below.

“Nothing to worry about,” the man holds his arm out, as if to stop Fili bolting. “They’ve been told to shoot in a way that causes minimal damage to the property.”

It takes all his strength to keep his façade, but there’s no denying that he’s shaken when he realises that the shots are indeed a part of whatever it is the SS are doing. “What is this operation, exactly?”

The major gives him a long look, assessing, but eventually decides to explain: “We’ve had reports of some of the inferior races hiding in this district. Gypsies mainly, and we have found a large group of them two days ago. So now it’s just a case of wrapping this whole thing up, but then you’re one of the last streets now.

“Commander, this one’s like the other flats in here,” comes from the kitchen and Fili makes it as far as the doorframe when there’s a shot.

“No!! That’s –“

Then another.

And one more.

Something shatters, but there’s no other sound.

Fili stares, his pupils like pinpricks and thinks he might be sick.

“Whatever’s the matter?!” The uncle-commander demands behind him and –

“- my mother’s favourite china…” Fili finishes breathlessly, has no idea where the words come from.

“Ah, Sorry.” The lad with the gun in his hand is younger than Fili, short, blond, cropped hair, freckles and the same stupid infectious grin that Kili has.

 _Had_.

For a moment he contemplates if he might have enough time to break the lad’s neck before they shoot him.

“How many times have I told you to open the door first before you shoot, Jorge?!” the officer scolds him, but even that has the tone of a concerned relative.

He thinks the soldier apologises again, and the commander says something to him, but he can’t hear the words any more. He can’t bring himself to move, and in the end the ridiculously familiar grin is what saves the boy’s life.

Fili will never understand why they left him alone then, why nobody thought his reaction was too strong for a few shattered bits of crockery. Perhaps they think the shots have triggered some sort of memory that put him into a shock. They must have seen that sort of thing before.

Or perhaps they just don’t care.

They used live ammunition to save time, he realises. Just so they wouldn’t have to climb into all of the narrow spaces themselves and risk getting in the line of fire. Instead a few well-placed shots, just to make sure the orders have been followed, not even bothering to check if they have actually _killed_ someone. They knew about the pantry because all flats in the building have one – some in use, others, like his, covered.

_The casual disappearance of faces._

_Right now I have you._

_I’ll be alright._

_Whatever happens, I love you. I will always love you._

He shakes in silence, nails biting into the skin of his palms, and it is impossible to describe the agony he’s feeling.

Except there is this strange peace descending over everything, which stems from the understanding that if Kili _is_ dead, they won’t be too far yet for him to chase them down and find his own end.

He manages to wait until they move onto the next staircase before he launches himself to move the cupboard aside, rip the nails out and see for himself, any and all caution damned to hell.

“Kili?!”

No answer, but when he strikes a match, he can just about make out the figure curled up in the corner, sluggishly blinking at the light in his hand.

“It’s just a scratch,” Kili whispers and it’s only then that he notices the heel of his palm pressed hard into his shoulder, the thick, dark blood pooling around it. “I didn’t scream…” he adds somewhat proudly with a weak smile, and slumps further into the corner.

The match burns Fili’s fingers and flickers out when dropped to a hiss of pain, which should really be a scream.

 

\---

 

Kili comes round to a haze of pain and something tugging on the skin of his shoulder. But at the same time everything is strangely… liquid, when he tries to move his head to look around.

“He’s coming out of it. Hold him down, in case –“

“Shhh… Please, Kili. Stay quiet or we’re all dead…”

Kili blinks and scoffs, or tries to. As if he wanted to talk right now, when even just breathing hurts.

He wouldn’t mind Fili reading to him though, would quite like to listen to his voice.

Kili frowns. Fili sounds terrified –

The thought rips and Kili floats away again, weightless, but reassured by Fili’s presence.

He remembers the dead frog.

“I’m Fili, by the way.”

“No way! I’m Kili! Wow, our names match!”

_Everything dies around here._

“I’m sorry to have involved you, Mrs Schreiber. I would have never put your life at risk like this, if I could think of another way, but he was bleeding so much and I didn’t know what to do! Please – you’ve known him since he was a child. Please, I can’t – I don’t know – I don’t know how to live without him…”

“I’m only a nurse, not a doctor. I’ve done all that I can.” A chuckle, not unkind. “You two have always been close. I should have known…”

A smile.

Kili remembers his mother’s smile, and that tune she used to hum to him before bed.

A tear rolls down from the corner of his eye and drips unpleasantly into his hair.

Fili used to hum for him.

 _It is a great misfortune to be alone, my friends; and it must be believed that solitude can quickly destroy reason,_ says Captain Nemo.

_Aren’t you going to sleep sometime?_

_I love you._

“I love you.”

He has been saved by Fili’s voice before and now he uses it to anchor himself as he sails the rough seas of survival.

An indeterminable amount of time later it’s gone all quiet. Something cool slides down his throat and he whispers: “H- hum to me.”

A sob, somewhat choked, and then a melody, hummed in a hoarse voice in Fili’s kitchen.

 

\---

 

By some strange miracle their city is spared bombings until nearly the end, except for the outskirts, where the factories are.

But on the 4th of March 1945 the sirens go off for the very first time in the districts of the inner city.

Then again.

And again.

And again.

For nearly two weeks.

The war is brought to their doorstep and suddenly there is no more hiding.

Kili is awake when the long howl sounds for the very first time, like a banshee announcing the death of the city; awake, but in a world of pain, as the healing tissues are disturbed with each breath he draws.

They share a single look, as the building around them comes alive with the rushing feet of the people trying to find shelter, trying to remember where the nearest anti-aircraft bunker is.

“You have to go,” Kili simply rasps, hair plastered to his face with sweat, eyes glossy. “You’re not safe here.”

“Neither are you.” Measured, as Fili puts the cloth he’s been using back in the bowl of cool water.

Kili chuckles humourlessly. “Yes, well, I think they’d notice if you tried to smuggle me in.” He lets his head rest heavily against the bricks and mortar, neck exposed in an attempt to let off some of the fever eating at him, eyelids sliding half-closed. “Go. I’ll be fine. This hole is like a bunker anyway,” he kicks ineffectively at one of the lower shelves, missing it by a good five inches.

“Kili –“

“Go!” he repeats, as the stampede of feet outside dies down a little, “I’m serious. You have to go now. These will be the last of the people going. They will be wondering where you are.“

“Kili…” softer now, in that annoying voice Fili uses when he believes himself to be right.

“Go, damn you! I will be waiting for you right here! It’s not like I can go anywhere, anyway. You once told me to go and I didn’t listen, and look where it got me!” He tries to laugh again, but only succeeds in making himself cough.

“Christ, Kili! Easy…” Fili growls, pressing a cool glass of water to his lips.

“Please,” raw and laced with fear, in between panting breaths, as the first explosions sound in the distance, “please Fili. I need to know you’re safe,” he whispers.

Fili huffs at that and then he’s getting to his feet and finally he’s headed for the door.

Kili lets his eyes slide closed and slowly breathes himself through the physical pain and pounding of his heart.

It’s fine. Fili will be safe. He’ll come back in the morning.

Kili just needs to stay alive until then.

The familiar click of the front door locking.

Kili hasn’t lived through all this just to die in a -

His eyes fly open again when there’s a sound of the cupboard hatch being opened from the outside. “Fili?!”

More bombs, closer now, and Fili is climbing inside on his hands and knees. “I’m not leaving you. I can’t. And you don’t get to ask this of me, because if our roles were reversed you certainly wouldn’t leave me, you pig-headed fool!”

“Fili, no! You don’t understand! This is so much more important than this display of loyalty! You could _die_ here, when you have a perfectly good way of staying safe! You can’t stay here!"

“I said no!” a shout over the sound of an explosion nearby, accentuated by a flash in the night sky and close enough to be felt in the bricks.

Kili has never known Fili to shout before.

“Listen to me, because I will say this only once and I need you to get it through to your thick skull!” the blond hisses, “I _love_ you, alright?! I love you more than anything I have ever cared about! Two weeks ago they have nearly shot you dead right before my eyes and I thought I was going insane! No, not metaphorically, _literally_ , genuinely, _insane_! So when you ask me to leave you behind, you might as well ask me to shoot myself! I can’t, I _won’t_ , I will never, _ever_ leave you again!”

Fili is frustrated; he’s afraid, he’s hurt.

Most of all, he’s angry with himself, and completely transparent to his best friend.

In the near-complete darkness of the tiny cupboard Kili carefully allows himself to draw one hand around Fili’s waist in a completely intuitive gesture of support, as they both duck instinctively, when the ground trembles.

“Now scoot over,” Fili huffs, “I have locked the door, but they must all believe I wasn’t home when the air raid started. Which means that it’s my turn to go into hiding.”

“Fili…“

“I love you,” a whisper now, in the slow seconds of complete silence before the next blast.

“Then you are an idiot,” Kili sighs, but carefully adjusts the contour of his body into Fili’s. “But I love you too.”

And then there is nothing left to say between them, as the explosions sound closer or further away throughout the night and there’s just the two of them and the breaths they share, ready for whatever fate awaits them, together.

Morning finds them curled around each other, hands clasped, and their exhausted eyes tracing the slow journey of the first rays of dawn along the old, wooden floorboards of Fili’s kitchen.

By whatever miracle their tenement is still standing.

 

\---

 

The second time the sirens sound over the city, there is no argument.

Fili simply gets to his feet and flips the lock, before returning to crawl into the dark space that contains the one he loves.

“Together,” he says, taking Kili’s hand and kissing his sweaty forehead, “Whatever happens.”

“I love you,” is the only response, the only one that matters.

“And I love _you_.”

Shell after shell, some closer, some further, one –

One hits the block to the right, obliterating one side forming their courtyard.

An impulse locks them together, because if this is where they die, they will die in each other’s arms. It’s an involuntary reflex to try and shield each other with their body, even where such sacrifice would be of no use.

A scream, brilliant light, and a breath, perhaps the last one, pressed tightly into the skin of each other’s neck.

The fear, hammering of hearts, stubbornly beating with a rabbiting pulse and they shake together, whimper and hold on, while the whole building rattles and all the windows shatter.

Seconds pass and they don’t let go, _can’t_.

In that moment they are so horribly young, so hopelessly beyond anything they’ve ever had to cope with. Fists against guns and protection of each other’s arms in place of bunkers.

Two days later, another raid; then another, the following night. Within days the city is in ruins.

In the end they learn to cherish this one last little act of defiance – that in a world where there is no choice left for them, they still manage to choose: they choose each other and to tie their fate together.

It’s painful, but it’s also _right_.

They lose track of how many times they think they’re about to die.

Two weeks later it’s so bad that Kili is barely lucid and Fili has got dark circles under his eyes and his hands won’t stop shaking.

Fear is the most exhausting state in which a person can live.

There isn’t a clear end to the bombings; no announcement to advise that ‘this is it’.

One night the planes don’t come, then the next one and the one after that. It is perhaps worse that way, because it feels like something huge is coming – like waiting for a sentence to be passed and executed.

In the daytime, people search the rubble – for bodies, for personal belongings, for food, for valuables. Nobody thinks about rebuilding, a nation half-broken.

At night – at night those who survived look to the skies, not quite believing the silence of the sirens.

Kili is too exhausted and too weak from his injury to resist the pull of oblivion offered by the sleep. But Fili is cursed with strong will and a stronger yet sense of duty, so his nights are sleepless, or restless.

And so it continues in quiet agony, wide eyes and brittle smiles.

The nightmares get worse, until one night finds Fili on the dirty floor of Kili’s cupboard, pressed into the corner, arms around his knees, watching Kili sleep and breathing himself through panic.

 _This can’t continue,_ he tells himself, eyes dropping closed, _He needs me sane._

It is an enormous effort to pull himself back, to accept that reality is what they remember it to be and not the high-pitched whizz of little parcels of death sailing through the air to kill them.

In the morning Kili finds him still there, curled up into a ball on the floor, but asleep.

He doesn’t ask any questions when he gently shakes Fili awake and pulls him to his own cot to stretch out there and catch more sleep.

It is simply _understood_ that if one of them needs saving, the other one will be there to do it.

That day is the first time Fili doesn’t turn up for work at all, instead safely wrapped up in Kili’s arms and a blissful shroud of unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr: http://linane-art.tumblr.com/


	10. The Ghosts I Keep Close To My Heart

 

_May 1945_

 

 

Kili remembers the day the war ended.

His shoulder is almost healed by then, only throbbing when he tries to move it around too much. It’s been weeks, and Fili has seriously depleted several boxes of army-issue painkillers, and antibiotics he has access to at work, but he hasn’t thought twice about the risks involved in getting Kili what he needed.

Few people care about inventories by that point.

When Berlin falls on the 2nd of May 1945, Fili is told not to bother coming to work the next day. In the end he never returns again, and Kili watches him slowly uncoil in his home, allowing his act and barriers to drop one by one in front of the only person he trusts.

They are very careful not to dream too early, never to discuss what they will do after the war, until it’s truly over. In those last few days the streets turn into death-traps, but they are okay for supplies, thanks to Fili’s early sourcing of the non-perishables.

Shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand they stay inside and listen to the radio.

There is no music this time. Over hours the presenters read out various cities that have surrendered, names of generals, position of troops, treaties.

Then, eventually:

 _The Allied troops have accepted an unconditional surrender of all Wehrmacht forces today as of four o’clock in the afternoon. We are being told the hostilities have ceased on all frontiers, although further details of the demilitarisation campaign are yet to be agreed. We are a nation at peace once again_.

Kili remembers the kiss.

They needed no words, only this one never-ending kiss that lasted minutes, perhaps hours. Fili’s hand along his cheek, knuckles scraping slightly along the edge of the wood, blue eyes unfocussed.

“I love you.”

Outside the shots sounded on the streets and a woman was wailing somewhere in the distance but they forgot how to be afraid.

 

\---

 

Kili stays in the cupboard for a week longer after the war has ended and Fili pushes a heavy chest of drawers against the front door to block it.

The city is in chaos.

There is still shooting on the streets, from time to time, and it gets worse when the military police is disbanded. Some of it is people just searching for food and trying to survive, some of it is revenge for their lost ones, some of it is the lunacy of the regime still firmly in people’s minds, impossible to uproot with a few political agreements.

Nobody really knows how the country can pick up the pieces and go on after everything that’s happened.

Among all this the two of them – clinging to life in every way they can.

“It will be over soon,” Fili murmurs when Kili jumps at yet another shot outside. “It takes time for people to accept the truth. Everybody makes their own peace, one way or another.”

Some of what Fili has seen through the cracks in the curtains remains in his eyes though, and Kili chases those demons from his soul with his voice as best as he can.

By the sixth day there is a downpour, which lasts nearly entire day, washing away the blood from the streets. Fili opens the window in the kitchen for the first time in days, and wrapped up in blankets, they breathe in not only the fresh air but also the dizzying smell of water against concrete, spring and a new beginning.

They share a bath that night and in the morning Kili doesn’t leave Fili’s bed.

There are no more raids, but being a Jew, Kili wouldn’t be safe outside. Besides, walking isn’t really an option for him in those first few days.

It takes time for his legs to remember how to support his weight after months of inactivity, and even after that, he tries to stick close to the furniture in case he loses his balance.

He falls, he swears, he gets back up.

It gives him something to focus on, an aim and enough motivation that he doesn’t feel useless.

It helps that Fili has been through this himself and can tell first-hand what works and when Kili is just pushing himself too hard to no effect. There’s some rivalry, gentle teasing and some snarky responses on Kili’s part when Fili steps just out of his reach again, forcing him to take a few more steps.

They haven’t done proper banter in years.

But then there are also gentle hands kneading on the spasming muscles of his calves and preparing his old hot water bottle to press against his aching thighs at night.

And that is new, but at the same time not new at all, not much different from a hand with bloodied knuckles reaching to help him up from the floor after whatever scuffle they’ve been in this time.

It takes another week for Kili to feel comfortable walking the short distances.

Still, just being able to move around Fili’s flat freely feels liberating: sitting at a proper table to eat together, curling up on a sofa with his feet in warm woollen socks in Fili’s lap as they read. Being able to sleep with Fili every night feels too good to be true, but he’s been through too much to question what is given to him freely. So instead he wraps himself tightly around his friend, marvelling at how well they fit together and nuzzles his nose into the soft blond hair that smells like soap, or the sensitive nape of Fili’s neck. Sometimes he allows his hands to wander and braid Fili’s hair away from his face for him and it’s a bittersweet memory that the first time he learned how to do this was for his little sister.

He gets restless unless he has something to do with his hands, so after a while Fili starts finding him little bits and bobs to repair – a discarded music box, his mother’s old necklace with a faulty clasp, a broken pendulum clock that one of their neighbours brought in to the forge because all of the watchmakers’ are shut.

It isn’t ‘normal’, but it’s close enough for them, for now.

 

\---

 

“Sweden.”

Fili drops his father’s old atlas of Europe onto the table, flipping through the pages until he finds the one he wants – the Scandinavia – and allowing his fingers to trace the ridges of the land and names of towns he’s never heard of.

“What’s wrong with France?” Kili frowns, peering at the elongated shape on the map and shifting the kerosene lamp closer.

“France is exactly where you’d think to go. Where lots of Jews are fleeing to.”

“Perhaps with good reason.”

Kili had written letters to the relatives he had in France, but had no response so far. It’s hard to tell if it’s because the post is in chaos and still not functioning properly; because he can’t fully remember the address he’s seen his mother write across an envelope once, several years ago, or because they have perished.

Fili looks up at that. “France has been devastated by the war. If you think it’s bad over here, think how many armies have rolled through the French countryside and cities in the last five years. Now imagine a mass migration of a group of people who have almost always been stripped of everything they own. Imagine the strain this would put on local communities… Your people won’t be popular over there.”

“It’s better to be unpopular than dead,” Kili observes philosophically and looks away.

Fili sighs and kisses the top of his head, arms wrapping automatically around his shoulders to make sure he knows that Fili is there for him. “I know. But I don’t want us to run away from one hell only to struggle in another one.”

“Okay then,” the only acknowledgement of Fili’s comforting gesture is a slight tip of Kili’s head into his arm. “Britain. They seem to have been on the right side of this war and no troops have landed on their soil. The more remote areas are bound to be untouched.” He flips the atlas several pages back and points to a new map.

“We will be Germans to them first and foremost,” he whispers into the unruly brown hair, “The Germans who have bombed their shoreline and capital, who have forced them to send their children away and spend half their days in bunkers. Only then will you perhaps be acknowledged as a Jew. And by that point it will be far too late.”

Fili’s gaze is unfocussed so he’s surprised when he’s tugged down into an upside-down kiss. He should be used to those by now, but he isn’t – each contact of lips against lips as electrifying as the first one and he welcomes the distraction from his dark and brooding thoughts.

“Switzerland,” Kili whispers eventually against his mouth. “The same language, we’d just need to pick up the local accent. And mountains… I’ve never seen mountains, Fili.”

Fili hums at that, drowns in the expressive brown eyes and wishes he could give Kili everything he ever wanted. “I’ve thought about Switzerland,” he says carefully instead, “but it seems too easy and thousands have probably had the same idea. It’s predictable. And I’m not sure it would be safe.”

Kili makes a questioning sound at the back of his throat, as Fili finds the right map.

“It’s just too close. Too big a risk that the people on their side of the border could have fallen victim to the same ideology as the people here have. Besides, what if something like this was to happen again?”

“You think there will be another war?” Kili’s eyes grow big.

“I don’t know. But I’m sure after the First Great War people were sure that Europe was done bleeding too.”

There is a silence between them for a while after that, until Kili tugs him down to take a seat in the chair next to him. “Alright. Explain Sweden.”

Fili gives him a careful smile. Kili can be stubborn, but he is not unreasonable, and in the end this decision has to be unanimous between both of them. “For a start Sweden has declared themselves neutral at the very beginning of the War and they’ve managed to maintain this status by making careful occasional concessions to both the Allies and our forces. Neither Norway, nor Finland succeeded in pulling this off, and they are more remote in the context of the rest of Europe, which makes them less strategically important.”

“So they must be really determined not to get involved,” Kili nods.

“Yes, except they have taken in almost all of Danish Jews and kept them safe despite the mounting pressure from the Reich.”

“It’s not much further than Switzerland.”

“Ah, but the sea makes all the difference, Kili. The twenty miles of the English Channel and some good air force were enough to stop the Kriegsmarine ever setting foot on British soil,” he gives Kili a mischievous little smile, “besides, I was thinking we could go to the northern part of Sweden…”

“It will be cold!” Kili protests immediately.

This time Fili’s face breaks into a broad smirk, full of dimples and hidden promises, “I’m sure we could find ways of keeping warm…”

That earns him a raised eyebrow, but Kili is unfazed. “We don’t know the language.”

“No,” Fili concedes, “we don’t.” It takes some balancing in his seat, but eventually he manages to retrieve the book he borrowed earlier from his well-worn satchel on the floor.

“ _Encyclopaedia Herbae_ , with illustrations,” Kili reads out loud and gives him a look that suggests that Kili firmly believes he’s gone insane. “You want us to pose as a pair of quacks?”

Fili rolls his eyes. “Open it!”

Inside the colourful external sleeve hides another book which Fili carefully replaced between the aisles, and then spent some time lavishing his attention on the library assistant who had unknowingly filled in the wrong card. It’s a Swedish language dictionary, complete with a small but comprehensive everyday phrases section. It was actually the dictionary that first gave him the idea when he buried himself in the maps and travel guides section on his first visit to the library after the cease-fire.

They had spoken enough about moving when they tentatively discussed their future, that Fili knew that Kili at least considered the possibility. There was little holding him back in Germany, with his family gone and the few Jewish people he knew enough to contact, unaccounted for. Fili on the other hand –

“What are we running from?” Comes a quiet question and Fili is once again stunned by Kili’s emotional intelligence and perceptiveness mixed with pure instinct.

He considers before he answers, then finally admits – “this –“ a wide sweep of his arm towards the window, “- I don’t want anything like this to ever happen to you again. I want you to be able to have a normal life, be recognised for your achievements and valued and treated like a person. Because every time they take this away from you, every time they make you believe to be something less than you are… they take something from me. And this… _us_ , it will never be easy, but there must be a way. There must be _somewhere_ in this world where we can be safe.”

Kili gives him a sad smile, slides his fingers into his hand. “Let me rephrase: what are _you_ running from, Fili? Why go to such lengths to get the dictionary? Why can’t we go where everybody else is going?”

This one is harder and Fili looks away. “There must be no trace. Not even the smallest hint of where we disappeared to, or that you were here at all. If we go, we must do this one journey properly, even if it’s to take weeks. If we are to truly start afresh, then we must be sure that the past can’t catch up with us, that there is no way to find us. Otherwise, we will never stop running.” He pauses for a mirthless laugh. “Why Sweden? Why Sweden indeed?”

“That’s not all.”

Kili is looking him in the eye and Fili admits before himself that if Kili is to take this decision, he deserves the truth, even if that truth means laying bare the network of fractures he’s been hiding for years.

“The Third Army… is no more, I imagine. My father – if he is alive – is a Prisoner of War, which means that it will take time before he’s allowed to return. But he will return. And then he will start looking for me. I don’t –“ his voice cracks only once, “I don’t hate him, Kili. I can’t. Instead it’s just as if – I used to look up to him when I was a kid. Remember him always at the forge, doing honest, hard work, always ready to chat to folks, always with an easy smile for me. And then one day… one day he just started talking about the ‘Jewish problem’. His words became dark and deadly, until they weren’t his words at all. It was as if… he was gone. Just like that. It was then that I realised that what I thought and believed, what I _was_ , was so very different from him and could never ever be reconciled. I had a choice, and I took it, that night in the forge.”

“Fili –“

“No, let me finish.” A breath. “I guess at the end of the day I’m a coward. Because I’m not ready to face my ghosts. I don’t want to see what he has become. I want to remember him laughing in the forge. I don’t want to be judged, when I feel like I haven’t deserved a judgement. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I wonder if I could be… _that._ If I could be like him...”

“You could never be your father, Fili," Kili whispers. "No more than I could run after my mother that day I met you after the uprising.”

Fili doesn’t realise that there are tears running down his face until Kili gives a loud sniff and wipes at his own cheeks.

There is a kiss – wet and full of regret, but always, invariably, soothing with unconditional love.

“So. Sweden. How are we going to get across the border?”

They talk that night well into the early morning hours and even when they have agreed on the basic gist of the plan, there are other topics that just seamlessly merge from one into the other. It feels like neither wants to risk the dreams, but eventually they do pass out, curled up around each other in Fili’s bed, and finally some of their demons are laid to rest.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr: http://linane-art.tumblr.com/


	11. To Sweden!

 

May - September 1945

 

 

In a way, Kili isn’t even that surprised when Fili asks for his help moving a heavy dresser in the living room so he can pry one of the floorboards loose and reach into the dirt underneath. He retrieves a handful of jewels, necklaces and heavy nuggets of gold and Kili can only stare in disbelief.

It’s exactly the sort of thing that Fili would forget to mention.

“Do I even want to know where those came from?”

Fili scrunches up his nose and drops some of the old-fashioned jewellery back into its hiding place. “They’ve been in the family for generations. I think my grandmother once traced our ancestry back to Maximillian I, or some such.”

Kili whistles. “You could be an heir to the throne somewhere. And you’re associating with the likes of me,” he chuckles.

That earns him a glare. “Yes, for all my sins,” Fili rolls his eyes, catching the back of Kili’s neck to steal a quick kiss. “My great-grand father was obsessed with accumulating wealth, but it’s hard to tell when at least some of it was moved here,” he picks up. “I think there is more of this stuff stashed here and there under the floor all the way into the kitchen, but this is the only loose board that I know of.”

“You mean to say we were literally living on top of a pile of gold.”

“It’s not like it could be of any use to us,” Fili shrugs, “to try and trade with any of this during the War would be to invite robbers and likely sign your own death warrant. My father certainly never had any interest in any of this and I only saw him take out a small ring from here once, when my mother fell ill. That was the same day he showed it to me, so that if anything ever happened to him, both me and my mother would have some means to survive.”

“And you’re sure you want to use it now?” Kili asks, inspecting a small selection of rings, gems, earrings and gold nuggets that Fili passed to him.

His friend pauses to look him in the eye. “We will have to be careful. But these are ready cash, in any currency. I’m only picking the things small enough that we can hide it in our clothing, without having to add a lot of extra weight, or worrying about losing it. I –“ he hesitates, but follows through “- I think the jewels are only worth what they can get us. I’m rather hoping they might just be enough for a new start.”

It takes an additional week to arrange their forged papers, but Fili demands only the best work. Their old connections to the undercover resistance networks come in handy, and at least on paper, they are both free to cross borders.

They use the extra time to develop some strength in Kili’s legs and say their goodbyes to Kili the cat, before Fili takes her to one of the library ladies to look after ‘just for a few days’, as he promises.

Within the next forty eight hours they are gone.

 

\---

 

The plan is actually fairly complex and misinformation is a huge part of it.

To that end Fili purchases a single ticket for an overnight train to Geneva, with a connection further on to Marseille. They nap in the afternoon and sneak out in the dead of the night, separately. They never make it for the overnight train; instead their objective for that first night is only to make it to the outskirts, to one of the tiny stations just outside the city, where they will try to catch a morning train in a very different direction:

North.

They leave their city with a sense of relief, but also fear - its streets are the only thing they've ever known. But there is no doubt in their mind and they are together, in a way liberated by the open spaces and the anonymity of being strangers, merely passing by.

After that it becomes a long trail of changing trains and directions, running up to some of the supply ones to catch a free ride when it slows down for a bend or walking for most of the day, sleeping rough. It’s hard on them, physically: Fili’s leg starts aching if they push too hard and they have to stop from time to time when Kili can’t quite catch his breath because of the still-healing shoulder wound.

But there is also an unfamiliar sense of freedom, especially for Kili, who watches the forests and countryside like a man starved of water.

They have agreed fairly early on not to cross the sea on a ship from Germany – too easy to find them in passenger’s lists, even with false identities, and nowhere to run, should there be any problems with Kili’s background. So instead they get a pair of first-class tickets for a train that will cross the border. It gives them a whole compartment just to themselves and the controller is less likely to question their identity, if it’s clear they can afford such luxury. Most importantly, they need to rest, without having to stay put.

They stretch out on the plush seats and within moments they’re asleep, which means that their first proper border control passes in a bit of a haze, when they’re woken up. Fili isn’t sure the officer believes Kili’s permits, but it seems like he’s seen enough of this sort of thing to know that he won’t be able to stop it by raising an alarm.

They’re in Poland now, headed towards Gdansk, or _Danzig_ as they know it, and it becomes clear that the train is their little capsule of safety in a country destroyed almost to the ground.

When they stop in one of the larger cities they buy some fresh rolls from the vendor, still using German currency. He frowns and overcharges them of course, but the rolls are still warm and sweet and they smell gorgeous, and they taste better than anything they’ve eaten in a while.

They draw the curtains over the door to their compartment and Kili tucks himself in against Fili’s shoulder, attacking his roll and staring out of the window. There is nothing to be said – the horror is palpable for both of them.

People, walking aimlessly in rags, trying to get back home. Families travelling with carts containing everything they own. Empty stares, some people trying to rebuild from the rubble. No farm animals. The fields unsown.

They stay on the train as long as they can, to the very last stop.

“We can’t use German language, Kili. Not here. They will lynch us if we do.” Fili warns before they get off and instead they try out their basic Swedish. It isn’t very believable, but it causes enough confusion that they manage to negotiate another ticket.

Due East now.

This line runs along the coast for some parts and this is so much better – to be able to stare out into the endless blue, watch the sun roll across the sky. To be able to forget, just for a moment, and fall into peaceful sleep.

But they have most of the Baltic Sea to get around and it takes time.

More of the same: trains, forests, roads, _endless_ roads, leading to god knows where. They get lost several times, they learn to go hungry, and they cross at least one border illegally, simply because they can’t tell where exactly the border is.

It must be somewhere in Soviet Russia that they sneak into someone’s barn for the night, exhausted and tempted by the promise of soft hay to rest on.

They’re out of luck.

They must have been spotted because within several minutes the owner appears, holding a gun in front of him. Fili takes a slow steadying breath and raises both his hands in a gesture of surrender. They are unarmed, and even if they were, they’re in no position to fight.

 _The mercy of strangers,_ he thinks bitterly, closing his eyes when the questions start in a language he doesn’t understand. But instead of the shot he was expecting eventually the man backs out.

He returns a few minutes later, just as they’re about to go, this time carrying two plates of steaming broth. The gun is still there though, hefted expertly by what looks like his teenage daughter. They leave the plates cautiously by the door and back away slowly, making gestures for them to stay.

They do, against better judgement and with no real reason to trust their host; they eat the broth and stay the night, sure to be gone by the sunrise and leaving one crumb of gold inside the polished plates.

Perhaps there are, still, good people in the world.

In the end they find their crossing across Baltic in a small town called Haapsalu, still in Russia. It’s not much, but there’s still shortage of young able-bodied men, so in return for helping haul the fishing nets for a few days the ship’s captain agrees to let them off on the other side of the sea, away from the prying eyes.

By the time they climb ashore they are beyond exhausted and on the verge of collapse.

But they are now, _finally_ , in Sweden.

 

\---

 

The rising sun on the 5th of September 1945 finds Fili standing inside an open compartment of yet another freight train, watching the sunrise through his eyelashes.

His body feels tense despite the loose position he’s adopted – legs firmly apart allowing him to sway in rhythm with the soothing tu-dud-tu-du of the wheels, arms swaying aimlessly by his sides. His hair is in disarray but he doesn’t mind how the wind whips the strands around his cheeks.

 _Sweden is breath-taking_ , he thinks, watching the first golden rays penetrate through the fog and splash against the yellowing leaves. He feels like he hasn’t breathed, _really_ breathed in years, and he greedily inhales the scent of damp leaves, forest floor and wind, lets it wash over him, go through him, caress his skin. The birds are only just waking and everything is eerily quiet, except for the train itself.

It’s perfect. So beautiful and he didn’t think there was such beauty still left in this world.

He startles somewhat when the tips of his fingers accidentally brush against something hard in his pocket. For a long moment he stares at the small bundle of keys his hand has retrieved.

His house keys.

He must have automatically put them into his pocket when they were leaving, like he’s done thousands of times before, when he’s been sent to run errands, going to school, going out to play with Kili…

The large metal one with a ring of its own to the front door leading to their staircase – never locked anyway – smaller one for the flat itself, and another hand-crafted metal one for the extra locking mechanism his father has put in. Finally the tiny key, last one on the ring, for the post box by the entrance.

A life left behind, and doors he will never unlock again.

It’s hard. His eyes well up at the memory of his mother waving him off to school, telling him never to lose the keys he’s just been given. He doesn’t need them anymore, he tells himself, but –

The keys symbolise his ability to return and some small part of his mind still clings to a vision of him one day walking up the old creaking stairs, putting the key in the lock and finding his family waiting for him.

He swallows thickly when the first tear finally falls.

He doesn’t need the keys.

He’s made his choice.

Life is more important, always.

His parents would have never accepted Kili and he can’t imagine life without Kili even more than he can’t imagine life without his house keys.

“Goodbye, mother,” he whispers hoarsely and flings them as hard as he can into the disappearing morning forest.

His mind frantically tries to remember the spot, in case –

In case what?

The keys are gone and Fili is all alone with a heart he’s ripped apart in two.

“Fili –“

He wants to crumble against that beloved voice, but he steels his back – Kili shouldn’t have to witness this, shouldn’t feel guilty about the choices that aren’t his own.

He doesn’t know how long Kili has been awake or how long he’s watched. He can’t find his voice, just _can’t_ , and when gentle hands turn him around, he can only follow.

“Fili…”

Kili is warm, sleep-warm and cosy, when Fili is pulled into his chest. A simple Henley-shirt, slightly dirty at the bottom, trousers too-wide in the waist for him, clinging to his hips thanks to a belt, worn, unlaced army-issue boots they had given Fili for representational purposes when his little administration team was being inspected by some army official or other.

And a warm body under all that, a beating heart, loyalty, rash temperament and easy laughter.

A sum total of everything he wants, everything he _has_.

It doesn’t make it any easier, but when Kili tucks him in against his chest settling back down on the floor, covering them both with the one blanket the have between them on one side and Fili’s warm jacket with a fur-collar on the other, he thinks that perhaps it is _enough_.

He falls asleep again and dreams of having a home of his own, one without gold hidden in the floor and a masked pantry for hiding Jews. Perhaps somewhere here, among the creaking trees and birdsong, where they can just be left alone in peace.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr: http://linane-art.tumblr.com/


	12. A Place to Call Home

 

_September 1945_

 

 

At first glance the tiny town of Sandviken is not that much different to a hundred other towns they have travelled through. By Fili’s count they must be about two hundred miles up North from Stockholm and it shows – it’s only mid-September, but there is already chill in the air and the trees have reached deep shades of gold and red.

It’s much easier now – with almost all of Fili’s family treasure pawned off in Stockholm and other major cities on their way, they now have cash – and a lot of it - which on one hand is really risky, but on the other allows them basic luxuries along the way – food, sometimes even a bed.

No bed in Sandviken for them, he learns, while waiting for some chicken soup and fresh bread he ordered in a local bar for himself and Kili, but there is perhaps a place where they could spend the night, if the owner agrees.

With the address scribbled on a scrap of paper and tucked away safely in his pocket, he sits down heavily in front of Kili, pushing one of the steaming bowls in his direction.

“Your leg is giving you trouble again,” Kili observes, reaching for a bread roll. “Some warmth would do it good and I should massage it for you.”

Fili sighs, taking the first mouthful of the heavenly good soup before answering, “this is not an inn, and there are no rooms in the town itself. The nice serving lady has given me an address for somewhere we might be able to stay though.”

Kili pauses, dipping his bread in the thick broth thoughtfully. “If we’re forced to sleep rough, you’ll be in agony by morning. Winter is coming. Remember last week when we slept in that shed? We were so cold, neither of us could feel our toes for hours; we need to find a place to stay. Even if it’s just until spring.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” he mutters, not quite able to meet Kili’s perceptive eyes. _It doesn’t matter if his leg seizes up_ , he wants to add, _it’s more important that they are_ safe _because when the snow falls there will be nowhere left to run should there be any trouble_. But he doesn’t say anything, knowing how much it bothers Kili to see him limping and how good he’s become at reading discomfort on Fili’s face.

“Fili,” a warm hand covering his, just a touch, and it will disappear within seconds, when really, Kili wants to kiss him. “You’re trying too hard. It doesn’t need to be perfect, we just need to make it work. Sometimes you just need to let it unfold, sweep you up and see where life takes you.”

Fili swallows thickly, remembering how Kili had to do this himself – let Fili sweep him up, straight from the street, and see what life had in stock for him. He doesn’t think a dark cabinet for over a year is what Kili had in mind, but he is still able to admit that sometimes it’s exactly what one has to do.

He wonders if he’s grown too used to the road to stop. This sense of not belonging anywhere, of not having a home any more – the only way to cope with it was to get used to it, and now perhaps a tiny part of Fili is actively resisting finding one. Because to make a home somewhere, to make a home _with Kili_ and then lose it _again_ …

He’s tired of running. He’s tired of the world where being able to belong is a challenge.

As if in answer to his dark thoughts, outside a downpour begins.

 

\---

 

Their chances, Kili thinks, were always slim, and now it looks like they will be sleeping outdoors once again after all.

The locals are nice enough to point out the address to them without any problems.

“Hurry”, one of them says, adding something about the furniture, which neither of them is able to understand.

“It’s for sale”, another passer-by adds and grins at the way the two of them exchange glances.

“You will need a boat,” this from a middle-aged lady they stop to ask for directions last. She’s wrapped up in a thick woollen shawl and looks distinctly mother-like, giving the two of them a definite once-over before answering, which makes them want to tuck their shirts into their trousers and tie up their shoelaces.

“A boat?” Fili picks up curiously, tilting his head.

“A boat.” The woman only points behind them and suddenly they understand.

The island is a decent size, elongated in shape and, unusually for this corner of the world, it rises up from the sea rather sharply, creating a low but rocky ridge on one end and gentler, rolling hills on the other. Within sight there seems to be only one house – a fairly big, sturdy-looking, wooden log cabin - nesting high enough on the hillside to overlook the entire valley, but still sheltered from the winds blowing from the sea by the outcrop above. Several farmhouse buildings around it, a shed next to a wooden jetty at the bottom, with a clear footpath winding down the hill between the two.

Certainly requires a boat, no question.

More importantly, right now, there seems to be a wide sofa firmly stuck at an awkward angle in the front-entrance of the house. Several other pieces of furniture – a table and a few chairs - are already outside.

Kili’s heart sinks.

The house seems perfect and the location couldn’t be safer or more ideal – the sheer fact that it requires a boat means that nobody will be sneaking up on them any time soon.

“He said it was for sale,” Fili murmurs, watching the house intently, squinting.

“Well, if it is, it’s about to be on sale sans the sofa,” Kili stares as well, watching the four men bustling about and talking animatedly about what to do with the offending piece of stuck furniture. “Sofas are great for sleeping,” he adds wistfully, thinking of pillows and space to stretch out his legs.

Fili shoots him a pointed look, but makes no move.

The more Fili looks, the tenser his back seems to become, until Kili wants nothing more than to rub at his neck soothingly. Instead he takes Fili’s hand and squeezes it tight. It feels like it’s only the two of them standing at the very end of the world, whipped by wind, made beautiful by the sound of crashing waves and sun that has come out just for them.

“There is nowhere left to run, Fili,” he whispers.

“But what if it’s not… _right_? What if the villagers realise who we are and –“

“That’s a possibility wherever we go.”

“I just –“

“Was there anywhere we have seen before that you liked better?”

“No.” A sigh.

“Is there anything about this one that you don’t like?”

“You mean apart from the fact that we are unlikely to be actually able to buy it?” Fili chuckles humourlessly. “You really want this house, don’t you?”

“I want –“ Kili hesitates, “I want to see you in bed, stretched out and warm. I want to see you walking around and reaching for things without looking. I want us to cook together, clean, do the laundry. I’ve never had the chance to live _with_ you before, I’ve always lived _next to you_. I want to fall asleep in front of the fire with you and wake up with cricks in our necks. I want to be free to stay close.”

“Kili –“

The need to kiss flares up, but they’re in public so instead Kili just steps closer, searching Fili’s eyes. “I want you to be able to let go of that face you keep for the world and be the lad I used to know – the one who would curl up in the window of my mum’s shop and make sarcastic remarks about my more difficult customers.”

They both chuckle at that, pressing their foreheads together. “That window was a great spot for people-watching,” Fili murmurs. “Nobody looks up approaching a shop, they all look at the display.”

Kili misses his carefree Fili something fierce. Too much responsibility at too young an age and he thinks they could both do with being brats for a while yet. Fili used to strut everywhere like he owned the whole city – annoying Kili to no end, because he never _could_ get his gait to quite match. He was always quick to laugh and kind to others. He used to dream, and be _curious_ , and sometimes he made mistakes, which was always interesting to watch.

Nowadays Fili limps around and tries to avoid eye contact with strangers, and Kili tries to think back to pinpoint exactly when it changed. He thinks when he met him for the first time after the uprising – the circumstances back then forced them to focus on survival, but even then – he wonders if Fili’s light was lost when Kili was snatched off the street. He never noticed when it was just the two of them sitting in Fili’s kitchen, in the quiet evening hours. He _did_ notice when they were on the road, but didn’t say anything – it wasn’t the time, nor place.

He’d give anything to have that Fili back.

“I was the one locked up in that cupboard, but you’re the one still trapped there,” he whispers, attracting blond’s attention once again. “I know you’re scared for me, I know you’re worried they will take me away from you, but you need to let me out of that cupboard now. You need to remember what it’s like to _trust_ and _have hope_. Yes, they might kill me when they learn I am a Jew and they might kill you, when they realise that you’re in love with me… But it’s not worth saving a life if you can’t live it.”

There’s a long silence at that, as something inside Fili wars for dominance. Eventually he frowns and crosses his arms on his chest. “And when did you grow up this much?” he grumbles, turning away to inspect the island once again. “And who told you it was okay?”

“I had a lot of time to think,” Kili chuckles, deciding it’s time to do something undignified. He starts jumping up and down, waving his arms and shouting to get the attention of the people on the other shore.

Luckily, it seems to work.

They need a boat, after all.

 

\---

 

“Twenty three thousand or we go!”

Now that the decision has been set in his mind, Fili approaches house acquisition much like he would approach a battle.

There’s a string of words he doesn’t understand, before the man demands twenty six thousand.

In all fairness, they could pay the sum that the man is asking for, if they really had to – they certainly have enough money, which is why Fili’s heart is hammering in his chest like crazy.

It’s all _real_ now.

It’s commitment and putting all their chips on the table, and most important of all: it’s a huge ask to expect strangers to accept them. ‘The house on an island’ sounds like a dream come true, almost _too good_ to be a real option, but the narrow straight separating them from the mainland won’t be enough to save them if they get on the villagers’ bad side.

Small towns are _dangerous_. No anonymity of the crowd, nowhere to hide, everyone knows everyone.

_You need to remember what it’s like to trust and have hope._

Kili hasn’t outright _asked_ for the house and never would; but it’s about what he _needs_ , what they both need, and it’s enough of a reason for Fili to mercilessly push his doubts away and draw on his practical side.

To pay twenty six thousand would mean almost depleting their fund and they will need money to get settled. So Fili haggles.

“Twenty six. With boat!” the man repeats, purposefully sticking to simple words.

Fili narrows his eyes and inspects the little dinghy swaying in the gentle waves at the shore, feigning disinterest.

“Boat only good here. After, we walk.” He tries, feeling more self-conscious about his very basic Swedish than ever. They have been trying to learn of course, testing each other on phrases almost constantly, but several months are still a far cry from what they’d need to master the language.

Man huffs and talks about something that Fili finally interprets as a ‘bicycle’, mostly from context. A bicycle… broken? He’s never heard the word before, but Swedish word isn’t that different from German. Broken, but within the price.

Kili gives the owner an apologetic smile and pulls Fili away for a moment to speak in private. “We could fix it. You need to take the strain off your leg, Fili. You need to let it heal again. I know you don’t normally limp when we’re not trying to scale dozens of miles every day. But the distances here aren’t small - took us nearly two hours to walk here from the main town. The bike would be a god-sent for that.”

Fili knows Kili is right of course, but a small part of him still bristles at having to make ‘allowances’ for him. He’s about to hiss as much in response when the man approaches them.

“You two – friends?”

It’s only then that Fili realises just how close together they are standing and that Kili’s hand is wrapped tightly around his wrist.

“Brothers!” He blurts out and prays that Kili doesn’t betray them with a surprised look. “Different mothers,” he adds when the owner looks between them in confusion.

“Is he paying half? Maybe I speak with him? He understand better,” the man suggests, but Kili fixes him with an impressive glare.

“ _We_ pay.” Kili announces. “We pay twenty three and a half with bike. No? We find another house.”

A thought occurs to Fili – if the boat and the bike had to be specified to be included in the price, then what about the out buildings? He tries to ask about it, but doesn’t know the right word and ends up going with the closest thing that comes to his mind: ‘mini-houses’.

The man blinks at them uncomprehending. “House in price. One house.”

“Oh for god’s sake!” a new voice sounds from the house entrance, well exasperated, but speaking in German.

Fili and Kili can only stare as the owner of the voice – short, neat clothing, soft brown curls for hair and a fierce scowl on his face – descends the wooden stairs from the cabin and starts what looks to be a long, annoyed tirade directed at the seller.

It is considerably too fast for either of them to understand this new avalanche of Swedish, but it is a sight to behold nevertheless, although they don’t realise they have started backing away until Fili nearly trips over an uneven clump of grass.

The owner seems suitably chastised by the time the shorter man is finished, reduced to trying to explain something awkwardly and much quieter now than he started.

“Now then,” they jump a little when the German language sounds again and the man rounds up on them. “My name is Bilbo Baggins. Perhaps I can be of assistance during this sale.”

There is a bit of a stunned silence, before Fili remembers his manners. “Fili Oakenshield,” he introduces himself, “and my brother Kili. And we would gladly accept your help,” he reaches out to shake the offered hand.

The atmosphere of practical sensibility intensifies, when without missing a beat Bilbo gestures towards the house, “Would you like to take a look at what you are trying to buy first, now that we have managed to move the sofa back inside and you can actually enter?”

Fili smiles despite himself, watching Kili throw him a pleading glance and practically bounce up the stairs to get in.

“Yes, that would be lovely,” he smiles, following after his friend.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr: http://linane-art.tumblr.com


	13. A Fisherman's House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS GUYS, I COMPLETELY FORGOT! 
> 
> There's a song to go with the second scene of this fic, which you can find here: [Jack Savoretti: Take Me Home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nu_O6S7wkzo)

 

September 1945

 

 

The house is basic, but well-equipped, and compared to what they’d settle for, it is luxury of the highest order.

All of the walls are thick wooden logs, except for the fireplace in the salon-come-kitchen, which is stone and completed by a small stack of neatly chopped logs on either side. There is also a cast-iron stove, a bit older than the one Fili is used to, but similar enough in construction. Aside from the living room and a washroom, there are only two other rooms, one of which is easily identified as a bedroom, with a single broad bed. The other, to their complete delight, seems to be part library, part study, with naval maps and bookcases stretching along the walls.

Eventually they settle for a price of twenty four thousand, which as Bilbo confirms, includes the out buildings and any livestock within. There is apparently a cat they are about to inherit, but it often chooses to roam free and only comes back when it pleases him.

Granted, there are some suspicious glances when two sets of keys are finally traded for a shoe-box worth of banknotes, but in the end both parties get what they wanted and it’s been a long day.

“Stay,” Kili whispers to Fili, once the hands are shaken again in agreement and the small group of locals starts heading slowly in the direction of the pier. “I’ll get them back to the mainland and will be right back. Get the kettle going, see if you can find us some tea.”

It’s hard to resist the enthusiasm of the brunet, and Fili slowly uncoils the tight reign he’s kept on his emotions all day, allowing the little flicker of happiness burn a bit brighter inside him and smiling back gratefully.

“I’d like to stay behind a moment as well, for a quick word, if you don’t mind,” Bilbo appears next to them out of nowhere, looking at them expectantly. “And I could go for a cup myself, to be honest.”

It feels unnervingly cosy once the door has been closed and everybody has left. Fili tries to resist it, but after a while, waiting for the water to boil, he is forced to admit that the place feels like _home_ , already.

“The house used to belong to Old Matthias,” Bilbo offers, looking at a little frame, apparently forgotten in all the chaos, featuring a faded photograph of a middle-aged man and two teenage kids – a boy and a girl. “Mind if take this? I don’t think you will have much use for it.”

Fili shakes his head in agreement, passing him one steaming mug. “We will be sure to return any other personal affects we might find back to the family. Was that his son that we have just struck a deal with?”

“Johan. Yes. His sister Helen, lives in Stockholm. But she has come for the funeral last week and is still staying with the family in the village.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Fili nods his understanding, his mind connecting the functional interior of the house with an elderly, life-hardened man.

“Please don’t misunderstand. I’m glad you two turned up when you did,” Bilbo casts him a curious glance. “Matthias used to be my friend. I will be glad to see the light in the windows of this house again and some life on the island. Johan lives with his family in Sund, a good seventy miles north from here. He has been trying to sell the house for over two weeks now, but to no avail. The folk in the village think it nice enough, but impractical, because of the straight separating you from the mainland. Sometimes the sea gets so rough it is impossible to cross.”

Fili nods again, taking mental notes and finding reassurance where the Swede sees only danger.

“Eventually Johan decided to take out anything of value and just lock the house up,” Bilbo picks up. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you got ripped off, settling for twenty four thousand. He would have sold to anyone in the village for twenty.”

Despite the news, there is a strange sense of peace settling in the pit of Fili’s stomach as he sits back and takes the weight off his leg. At the end of the day there is nothing but the sense of relief that they have managed to find somewhere they can call home now, somewhere they can be _safe_. For that Fili wouldn’t mind handing over all of their money and the shirt off his back. “I suspect we would have gotten ripped off much worse if not for your intervention. Thank you, mister Baggins,” he says simply.

Bilbo surprises him by giving a small chuckle. “Well, he was hoping to get thirty thousand off you at first - I’d say you haggled well. And I think twenty four thousand is not a bad price for a –“

“German?” Fili tenses up again, looking for judgement in his eyes.

“- newcomer, I was going to say,” the Swede shrugs. “These are strange times we live in. People will talk. Especially when they hear about the shoebox worth of money you have handed over. But they will also get bored of talking, eventually, and life will go on, like it always does, here in the North.”

Fili curses himself mentally, but doesn’t see any other way in which he could have handed over such a big sum of money without having a permanent place of residence. There is a moment of companionable silence after that until Fili decides to change the topic. “How did he die? Old Matthias, I mean.”

“He was a fisherman. They were out of the bay when the storm hit. The entry back to the main harbour can be dangerous, you see, especially with the waves crashing into the rocks. But four people made it back alive, so that’s something.” He offers a sad smile and suddenly Fili wishes he didn’t ask.

“And are you a fisherman yourself?”

“Me? Heaven forbid! I get green around the gills even in your little dinghy,” the short man shudders. “I’m a teacher in the local primary school.” He gives Fili a little cursory glance, before simply adding “Are you?”

Fili hesitates for a moment, thoughts whirling around the future interrupted by war. Who knows what career he might have chosen, if he followed through on the university. Who knows where Kili could be now, if not for the war, whether he’d still be serving in his mother’s corner shop. It’s pointless speculating, but the regret is hard to shake off. “I used to be a blacksmith, where I come from,” he finally responds. “You wouldn’t happen to have a working forge in the village, would you?”

“No,” Bilbo says slowly, “but there’s no reason why you couldn’t open one. Have you any experience making metal ship-parts?”

“We weren’t close enough to the sea,” Fili shakes his head, “but I’m sure I could learn.”

“That would help. The nearest shipyard is in Sund, which is a day and a half cruise, even just for the spare parts. And their charges are extortionate. In fact, setting it up not far from here, on the mainland shore wouldn’t be a bad idea, as the ships could come in and collect the parts easily. There is a small flotilla in the village harbour so there would be enough work in it to scrape an honest living,” Bilbo suggests.

Fili smiles. The conversation is proving invaluable and he’s taken a liking to the helpful little Swede, even if he’s a bit peculiar in the way he seems to fuss about nearly anything. “Thank you,” he repeats. “I shall certainly have a think about it.”

Bilbo returns the smile. “And now I must ask something of you, if that’s okay?”

Fili tilts his head curiously. He’s been wondering about the purpose of this conversation since Bilbo asked to stay behind.

“You will have noticed that my German is a bit rusty –“

“I think your German is fantastic!” Fili scoffs, but in truth Bilbo does have a strong accent, making it difficult to understand him sometimes and a rather sweet tendency to swap some of the words for another, which wouldn’t normally be used in context.

“- and I think you’ll agree that your and your brother’s Swedish is far from fluent,” the shorter man continues, making Fili colour up. “The sooner you can communicate freely, the easier it will be for you to start a life here. And it’s been a good seven years since I last spoke German and I do so hate to see a skill once learned go to waste. I suggest classes. Perhaps twice a week, in the evenings. I’ll speak only German and you can correct me and I help you with your Swedish, if you like?”

Fili stares. “You are too kind. You have done so much for us already –“

“Nonsense. This business is strictly in my personal interest. But of course you have no obligation –“

“We’d love to!” Fili interjects before the Swede manages to talk himself out of it, “Kili and I haven’t been to school in years though, I must warn you. But your help would be more appreciated than I can say.”

“Good.” Bilbo beams at him. “We are agreed then. Perhaps Tuesdays and Fridays?”

“That would be great.”

 

\---

 

That very first night is full of disbelief.

They feel dead on their feet, so washing is merely perfunctory before they both slip under the hastily found blankets.

They have only slept together in a proper bed a handful of times so it still feels new and precious, and the connection to the time when it used to be the greatest bliss they knew is still there.

Fingers sliding through hair, reverent press of skin against skin, and their eyes – tired, sad with the memories, but for the first time with a tiny glimmer of hope in them. It’s all warm, gentle and pulsing with delicate love; Fili brushing Kili’s hair behind his ear for him, Kili’s hands stroking over Fili’s ribs that hurt for days from the heavy boots of the SS, Fili’s hands, in turn, over the ugly bullet scars that Kili bears, and the peace Kili patiently kisses into the expressive blue eyes.

A small measure of relief from the hunger for human contact and touch, for closeness, in the safety of the cabin they can now call home.

“Kili –“ a hand on his neck as Fili closes his eyes and just listens to his heartbeat, to the waves outside and the unfamiliar calls of birds.

It should feel threatening, this new and isolated place in the land of strangers, but they have each other, _really_ this time, and it’s all they ever wanted.

In that one moment everything they went through is worth it.

The hand moves from Kili’s neck to his heart and eventually to his waist, tugging at him lazily and there is a slow and sinful smile on Fili’s lips, a variation of which Kili has been seeing all his life, only never with this edge of need in it.

He goes willingly, tucking himself into the waiting arms, curling up to fit, luxuriating in the way Fili seems to envelop him, to help hold him together, the way he can do the same for Fili.

“Okay?” Quiet and careful not to squash him and Kili’s hands move to tangle in Fili’s soft, long hair, to massage his scalp, earning him a tiny, breathy moan.

“God, I missed this,” Kili murmurs, allowing himself to sink into Fili’s reassuring presence and the familiar smell, teasing the sensitive nape of his neck and actually _feeling_ Fili’s muscles relax all around him.

“Kili…” a sigh now, happy and content as those blue eyes watch him, sliding half-closed.

They are close enough to kiss, but for now it’s about touch and the shivers along their skin. They share the sensation of being held, being loved and protected and truly alone together for the first time. They let it roll between them, minute adjustments of hips and tightening of arms to tip the other closer still.

It takes some conscious effort to let themselves sink into the peace of the island, into the safety of their remote location and the privacy of their log cabin. It doesn’t come naturally to them, not after years of responsibility they weren’t ready for, fear, loneliness and the horrible things they have witnessed.

“Fili –“ Kili breathes, as if it could express the turbulent love inside him, threatening to spill over, if he holds himself back from taking what he’s always wanted any longer.

“Shhhh…” and then Fili bridges the gap between them and they are kissing, slow, thorough, tongues sliding as they share this sensation as well.

Kili didn’t know life could feel like this – like being taken apart and put back together a hundred times in each second and after over a year of barely any warmth of a living being against his skin, all the contact feels almost too much, but he wouldn’t push Fili away for the world. His nerves tingle as Fili’s hand settles at the small of his back and he wants to curve into the touch, crawl under Fili’s skin, have him branded in his very bones.

It’s almost a shame when their eyelids starts feeling heavy but they have only stayed awake this long because of the sheer willpower and now all the gentle strokes to the exhausted muscles and the low thrum of pleasure tip them over the edge.

They fall asleep like this, curled around each other, lips sleepily chasing the taste of each other’s skin, sharing the same breaths.

The world is finally at peace. The war has ended.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Find me on Tumblr](http://linane-art.tumblr.com/)


	14. A Sense of Belonging

 

_September 1945_

 

 

Fili wakes up to the feeling of fingers on his injured leg, massaging firmly, but patiently and making him groan in appreciation.

"I could feel the muscles spasming against my shins," Kili smiles at him through the bangs hanging around his face, "Didn't want you to wake up with a cramp again."

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around," he grins, stretching out contentedly, never missing the way Kili's eyes trace the movement.

"I'll see if we can draw you a bath later," Kili offers calmly, as if he hasn't just pinched his thigh in retaliation, making Fili yelp. "I want you to keep this leg in hot water until your toes look like prunes. We need to keep it warm for a few days and no walking beyond the house," he orders sternly, adding: "You have really done a number on yourself this time."

He watches the soft, worried eyes, the skin finally getting a healthy tinge and remembers sticking a plaster he took from his mother's first aid tin over a cut to Kili's eyebrow arch when he was ten.

They have always looked after each other.

"It's okay. It doesn't hurt anymore. You can stop," he whispers, and this is true: he feels relaxed, well-rested and peculiarly lazy from the smell of sleep around him and the warmth of the soft bed under his back.

Kili's eyes take on a mesmerising golden hue in the morning light, as he slowly, purposefully climbs back up along Fili's body only to settle contentedly on top of him. A hand comes to rest along the side of his face, Kili’s thumb idly tracing the curve of his cheek as Kili searches his eyes and leans in for a kiss. It’s only a gentle little thing, almost chaste, compared to how Kili can kiss when he’s in the right mood, but it feels like love, like home and peace at last.

They are _home_ , Fili realises.

Among the quiet sound of the waves in the distance, wrapped up in the blankets that Kili insisted he needed, with muscles aching from the hundreds of miles they have covered, but pliant after a full night’s sleep for the first time in, well, years – they are finally at home.

And they have survived the War.

“There’s so much to do. Before we can turn this house into a home,” a soft little whisper from Kili and they could always guess what the other was thinking.

He smiles and wraps both his arms around the warm skin of Kili’s back causing a shiver, before rumbling, “ _you_ are my home now.”

Kili doesn’t argue, only hums contentedly, and wriggles to fit better inside his arms.

For the first time it occurs to Fili that Kili is naked; naked and only separated from his skin by the covers between them.

Desire wakes in him slowly, uncoiling in the pit of his belly and filling the space in his heart where the fear used to live. There were few times he felt aroused before, and they have seen each other naked often enough that there is no shame between them.

He almost missed when Kili turned into a man.

Almost.

When he _did_ notice, he looked away, feeling guilty, because how could he feel like this when Kili could be dead tomorrow?

Now however...

He falls in love, rather than lust; in love with the mischievous grin, as Kili tugs the covers between them aside, in love with the supple, sensitive skin against his own and clever fingers capable of taking away the pain and dispersing the heavy thoughts when they brew in his mind into a storm.

He feels his body responding, relaxing into the searching hands and swelling against Kili's stomach. He lets it happen, watches Kili shiver when he feels it and there's a corresponding twitch right next to his own hardness.

They gasp in unison, eyes wide and fingers lost in each other's hair, tugging the loose strands away from their faces so they can -

The next kiss is nothing like the first one, full of tongue, need and little surprised noises when they find a way to rub against each other.

They separate and Fili goes for Kili's neck, lets himself take what he needs, allows his body to dictate what feels good.

A slow smirk against Kili’s skin is all the warning he gets before Fili flips them both around until he's on top, mouth hot and exploring, while Kili’s impatient fingers clutch at his back. He kisses the precious warm skin, sucks little marks of worship into it and learns Kili’s taste. It’s all wrapped up in the fresh scent of soap, sheets, and the familiar tinge of Kili asleep, making him press his nose into the crook of his neck and draw a deep breath.

Kili is beautiful. Even like this – too thin and scarred and not yet quite emotionally healed, he is the most wonderful thing Fili has ever seen. He’s got no idea what he’s doing, except that he wants _more_ and that it must feel good for Kili too because -

"Fili -" a gasp, _almost_ afraid, but not enough to want to stop altogether, as Fili’s touch ghosts over the sensitive area along Kili's ribs.

It's fascinating to watch how Kili responds to each caress. A part of him wants to tickle him there, but they have grown, and as much as he’s certain he will, another time, right now he wants to look at that glorious trail of black hair, kiss and nip and lick alongside it.

He wants to unlock that part of them they have never dared to touch, wants to learn what it feels like to be made complete, wants to be bold and push and take and have the same things done to him. He imagines Kili shocked and delirious, spoiled into incoherency and trembling in pleasure, and that little outraged frown of complete satisfaction between Kili’s fierce eyebrows.

He doesn't know how to ask, doesn't have the right words beyond the few rude ones he's heard here and there, which don't belong in their bed, so instead he pauses on the inside of Kili's thigh, just shy of where he really wants to touch and just - "Kili?"

"I need you. Fili, I – Please!" demanding, from the blown pupils encircled by stunning hazel band, and then quieter, more hesitant - "Can I -?"

"Anywhere. Anything you want, Kili..." and this is true too.

The next sound is a moan, followed by a soft, hoarse curse and enough movement to allow hands between them. They roll their hips together on instinct, sliding into the tight grip of Fili's fingers, but completed by Kili's hand.

They react differently - a hiss from Kili and Fili has to close his eyes for a moment, press his forehead into Kili's chest, but there is endless trust between them and they know they would never hurt each other. For now it’s all about curiosity, give and take, and the careful strokes to the pulsing flesh.

Fili keens in his need; he wants, _wants_ so completely that he's afraid it will destroy him. It’s terrifying how little control he has in that moment, but he has also never felt this grounded before, this complete and calm.

The world narrows down to kisses, panted breaths and the heat between them as they learn how to grind against each other, how to drive each other ever higher.

It's hard to tell which one of them falls first, but they cling together as the pleasure rips through them, marking Kili’s trembling stomach in hot evidence of their need, half afraid of how good it feels, half smug with what they did to the other.

They pant and hold on after, because it's the only way they can feel safe after such an earth-shattering experience, tucking themselves close and pulling the blankets back over the sweat cooling down on their skin.

There is laughter, delighted and wild, and a sense of belonging stronger and more complete than any place could ever evoke.

 _You are my home now_.

 _And you are mine,_ unspoken, but obvious in the way Kili looks at him, in the way he kisses his love and adoration into his skin and tries to heal him through touch alone.

Fili thinks it might be working, curled up and tangled in limbs that have no business being this long and gangly, and yet are utterly perfect, blankets pulled up all the way to his cheek and drifting away once again to the rhythm of steady breaths against the shell of his ear.

They’ve got nowhere to be, nothing left to run from, no commitments to keep, except the most precious one – the one to each other.

 

\---

 

The fourth night finds Fili curled up on the sofa, knees pulled up to his chest, listening to the crashing waves outside and eyeing the little lights of the village in the valley below as if they were about to raise and come to kill them. It should be soothing – the twinkling of human habitation, perhaps one day it _will_ be, but right now his mind tells him to be on his guard, stay alert and expect the worst.

_“Why? Why do I have to die? I have never hurt anyone –“_

Some part of Fili hates himself for what he had done to Kili, how he made him feel. He hates himself for what he didn’t do too, for the lives of Dis and Sarah that he couldn’t save and countless others he barely touched before he lost them. He saved Kili, yes, and by some strange miracle Kili loves him and here they are, at the end of the world, safe and sound.

Fili feels like he doesn’t deserve any of this.

His dreams are full of shots, one, two, three, and he wonders which one of the three got Kili in the shoulder, wonders if he could have prevented it. He remembers the thread going through flesh as Mrs Schreiber put in the stitches and the blood, everywhere, all over Kili’s chest. He remembers the things Kili described to him of his life in the ghetto and feels responsible for each horrific day his friend spent in there.

In Fili’s dreams they drag Kili away, writhing and screaming, and they put a gun to his head. Kili glares, of course he does, defiance and the insane hunger for life until the very end, and then his eyes move to Fili –

A mixture of regret, goodbye and _I love you_ -

And then the trigger is pulled.

He hides his face in his knees, and shakes, careful not to make a sound in the darkness.

“Fili?” He jumps at the gentle hand on his back, but relaxes when Kili’s arms envelop him. “Oh, Fili…”

He’s there in an instant – pushing at his legs and climbing into his lap so he can be close for this and Kili’s hands on either side of his face, cradling his head and capturing him, a thumb rubbing away the frown that he knows has settled between his brows. He looks into the concerned eyes the colour of rich, glowing amber, before –

Kili kisses him as if they were underwater and he was passing him the breath of life.

Blissful oblivion of all his thoughts scattered and insignificant, little impulses of pleasure from Kili’s blunt fingertips pressing into the tender skin behind his ear and _I’m here now._

He lets Kili steal him away from here and now, to pull him into himself, lets him become Fili’s entire world. He chases the taste – sleep and warmth – licks into his mouth searching for more, feels humbled by the thought that he could be loved like this, with such furious ferocity.

“You said you weren’t staying much longer,” Kili huffs against his wet lips and an altogether different guilt spikes inside Fili’s heart, until – “You belong in my bed, Fili,” he growls, selfish and wonderful in that moment.

 _Where I can keep you safe_ , neither of them says, but the words are there all the same.

Fili’s not sure what to say to this.

That he needed the time to lay his demons to rest? That he couldn’t show Kili how much he’s still scared for them? That he can’t just switch his mind off, when for years his mind was the only thing keeping them alive? That there is guilt inside him that he can’t seem to be able to extinguish no matter how much he understands that it was the best he could do under the circumstances?

But Kili seems to know anyway, somehow, without words, always, with the wholly intuitive emotional intelligence Kili has, or just the familiarity of a lifetime spent together, when he slides back and into the space between Fili’s legs. He presses both of them impossibly close, sprawled like a blanket on top of Fili’s chest, pressing his face into that tiny dark space in which Fili is hiding, neck craning, dark eyes searching, lips seeking permission once again.

He wraps both his arms around that precious back and pulls him flush to himself in a tight embrace, saved by the weight of the beloved flesh and bone, by the familiar warm love surging up inside him and the lack of judgement. He hides in Kili’s messy hair and allows himself to sink into the comfort of holding the one person he loves wrapped up so completely.

Kili lets him take whatever he needs, battles all his insecurity in that wonderful obnoxious way of his – all of himself thrown into it, everything he feels swathed like bandages over the cracks of Fili’s soul, his unique brand of _Kiliness_ almost overwhelming in how it pours over him.

There is an unfamiliar scent of soap clinging to his hair from the bath they took earlier, but underneath it all the clean notes of Kili’s own skin and Fili falls in love with those all over again.

“I used to hate it when you had the nightmares.” Kili whispers by the shell of his ear, and Fili bristles against how forlorn it sounds. “You were so close, but I couldn’t get out to wake you and you’d moan and beg and I was helpless.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So let me help _now_ ,” fierce lips against his cheek, and arms that will never let him go, “don’t shut me out.”

He closes his eyes, because he’d do anything Kili asked of him now, he’d lay himself bare if it was enough to wipe the sadness and frustration from Kili’s voice and replace it with laughter like drops of sunshine.

Besides, he needs this, the safety of someone ready to pull him out of his nightmares, someone to hold close even when the sleep won’t find him.

And then Kili’s lips are upon his again, because apparently help means more affection than he can contain, and he loses himself to the feeling of being loved slowly kissed into him for minutes that stretch and soothe like an anaesthetic, before Kili says -

“I forgive you,”

Fili’s breath hitching, heart open for the surgery of Kili’s words –

“for each and every thing you imagine you’ve done to wrong me, to hurt me. I absolve you of all the guilt you feel on behalf of the hundreds of thousands of people gone insane. There is nothing left to pay for, Fili. We are safe, we’ve survived and that’s not a crime. You’re allowed to love me and I sure as hell will love _you_ , until you’ve remembered what it was like to be happy.”

Another kiss gently pressing and dislodging the demons in his mind and one final –

“I forgive you.”

Deposited in there to stay for good.

He loses track of how long they kiss and breathe together, just that, patient stitching of the wound, and exactly enough to save him. His arms relax slowly, until they are loosely draped around Kili, stroking a thumb over the skin of his shoulder, thoughts full of wonder and peace.

“Now then, back to my original plan,” Kili declares eventually, as if he hasn’t just caused a revolution. “Scoot back down for me,” he orders, tugging at one of his ankles and Fili can only chuckle and obey as Kili rearranges him how he wants him, making sure to stretch out his injured leg.

Soon there is a pillow tucked under Fili’s head and propped against the armrest of the sofa, allowing him to lean back comfortably and Kili shuffles lower as well, curling up on his side on top of his chest and covering both of them with a blanket. Snuggled up like this, he gives a content little noise and Fili thinks it’s ridiculous how his stomach does a summersault at that.

“I was thinking about how much I missed it,” Kili murmurs, passing him an unfamiliar-looking book and adjusting the flame of the little lamp he brought with him to provide more light. “The sound of your voice reading to me in that steady way of yours. I think we should start doing it again.”

“This book is in Swedish,” Fili arches an eyebrow at the dark mop of hair under his chin, flipping the first few pages curiously.

“Yes, well, mister Baggins said we should practice, didn’t he? You read, and I’ll look up the words we don’t understand.” He can feel Kili’s grin against his skin as he pats their trusty _Encyclopedia Haerbae_.

“It will take forever,” he warns, finding the first chapter all the same, “You don’t have the kind of patience required to read like this.”

“That’s why you’re doing the reading. I’m here for the sound of your heartbeat and your fingers stroking through my hair. Read to me, Fili, like you used to.”

Something inside him softens when he huffs in mock-annoyance and peers from the bundle in his arms to the crisp letters on the page, wondering if this is what it feels like to heal.

The words trip over themselves and he struggles constantly, but they only manage to translate about half the page between them before he drifts away into dreamless sleep.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Find me on Tumblr](http://linane-art.tumblr.com)


	15. A Swedish Welcome

 

_September - October 1945_

 

 

The first lesson feels like they’re back at school together. There is even an element of playful elbowing as they shuck their shoes and follow Bilbo into what looks like a really cosy parlour.

“Right then. If you two are all settled, we will get right to the point,” Bilbo gives them a warm smile as they take their seats behind a sturdy table. Let me just get my –“ He turns around and the next time Fili looks up, he is peering right into the barrel of the biggest shotgun he has ever seen.

It must have been used for hunting in the woods before because surely the calibre currently pointing at his chest would be enough to bring down a wild bear. Considering how close they are, Fili has no doubt that if fired there will be nothing but an enormous hole where his heart used to be.

He twitches in a pointless effort to get in front of Kili –

“Whoah now! No sudden movements there, lad,” Bilbo’s voice isn’t cold, rather composed and very matter-of-factly, which gives Fili the tiniest shred of hope that he isn’t, in fact, dealing with a raving lunatic. “This is how it will work: I ask the questions, you answer them. Quickly, accurately and most importantly – truthfully. If I don’t like what you’re saying, you’re taking too long to answer, or I think you’re lying, I blow you to smithereens and ask your companion here the same set of questions. Am I understood?”

“Yes.” Because really, what choice does he have?

“Have you killed someone?”

“No.” No hesitation.

“Did you try to?”

“No.”

“Did you –“ he struggles for a word for a moment, eventually decides on “- did you give anyone out, harm them or caused someone else to harm them?”

“No.”

“Is he really your brother?”

“No.”

“Are your names your true names?”

“No.”

“Do you love him?”

The question catches him completely off-guard, and he can’t help but throw a panicked look at Kili, and wonder if they have been allowed to live through so much, only to be murdered here for the simple crime of what their hearts feel.

“Do you _love_ him?!” Comes again and the shotgun moves to point at Kili’s chest. This was his last chance.

“Yes.” He looks Bilbo straight in the eye, so there can be no doubt, so if they die, at least in this one thing they are true.

Bilbo’s nose twitches.

“Right.” The barrel returns to Fili’s chest, but Bilbo’s eyes move onto Kili. “And you love him, I suppose?”

“I do.” Kili glares mutinously and as if this wasn’t enough, he takes Fili’s hand in a simple act of defiance.

“And you haven’t been… forced, have you?”

Kili’s glare turns cold. “No. I was the one that… changed him. He used to be normal. I seduced him –“

“Kili!” Fili hisses, fingers digging into Kili’s palm.

“God, but you two are idiots,” Bilbo rolls his eyes, but the shotgun is lifted and comes to rest on its butt against the desk.

“Excuse me?” Confused, from Fili.

“Okay look –“ Kili blurts out “- he saved me! For over a year Fili hid me and kept me safe. He never hurt anyone, he wasn’t even in the army! That’s the truth!”

That causes Bilbo to take a renewed interest in staring right down into Fili’s soul, which is unnerving, but it doesn’t stop him delivering a swift kick at Kili’s shins between the chairs.

“Good,” the teacher declares eventually, expertly opening the weapon and removing the shells. “We can proceed now. Oh, and the scones should be ready any minute now.”

“What –?” they are both staring, rather inelegantly, as the Swede replaces the shotgun above the merrily crackling fireplace behind him.

“The others will never approve of what you two have, but they will _accept_. And that means they will protect you, if the need arises, or at least buy you enough time to disappear. You are a part of the community now and the village will ensure that you remain so for as long as you wish. Provided of course that you make yourselves useful and don’t do something stupid to destroy your reputation.”

“This was a test -?!” This from Kili, and he sounds about as incredulous as Fili feels.

“What, did you _really_ expect you could just come over here, settle peacefully and get a warm welcome without question?”

“Well… for about a week that seemed to be the case,” Fili mutters, embarrassed that he allowed himself to believe so easily.

Bilbo scoffs. “If that _was_ the case any stranger could come among the peaceful folk of this valley. And then imagine what trouble we would have here!”

It’s slightly unnerving how he seems to slip seamlessly back into the fussy little man they met a few days ago, but Fili decides that in the grand scheme of events that day, this isn’t the worst. “And you took it upon yourself to do your own… ‘welcoming’?”

“Well, someone had to! Besides, I already have an odd reputation around these parts, I might as well be ‘the madman with the rifle’!” he chuckles nervously now, then remembers himself and clears his throat.

“- And that, I’m afraid, would be my fault,” a new voice announces and both Fili’s and Kili’s heads whip around to look in the direction of the kitchen. “Squadron Leader Bofur McDowall, 37th Squadron, British RAF. Or ‘Bofur the Mechanic’, as I’m known here. Pleasure to meet you, lads. Oh, and Bilbo – you might want to have a look at those scones. I can’t tell if they’ve had enough or if they need another couple of minutes.”

 

\---

 

Life settles slowly into a pleasant routine.

Fili decides to follow Bilbo's advice and opens a forge near a little cove visible from their house and easily accessible by the bike they have repaired together in their first week.

It takes a while to build it, but between the two of them and with some help from Bofur, they manage a decent little stone building with a sturdy fireplace and big bellows. As soon as it opens, Fili finds his hands full of orders for domestic goods, fixing cart axels and, indeed, repairing ship parts.

Kili helps for a while with the simple work of fetching and holding things in place and before the winter sets in properly and all the immediate repairs for the village are exhausted, the brothers have all but rebuilt their savings. It's hard work and for a time it takes up long hours, but it's clear that Fili enjoys it, and Kili watches peace return to his face together with a renewed sense of purpose.

Once the worst of the workload has been completed, Kili too finds himself gainfully employed. It catches Bofur's eye how good Kili seems to be with what he calls 'tinkering' - and soon he is helping with finer work in his newly opened car garage. It takes up a few days of his week, and whatever remains is spent in Fili's forge, helping out with the bigger orders.

The villagers never quite buy the story of them being brothers, but between how useful they prove themselves to be and whatever Bilbo has told them, nobody confronts them about it openly. After a while, to the locals the term 'brothers' becomes almost a nickname, as if the taboo relationship behind it has been tamed somehow by the simple word.

There is never any display of affection in public. It’s just too dangerous and they accept this fact of life as the price for their happiness in private, the same way as they once accepted their enforced distance as the price for Kili’s safety. Fortunately, their record as best friends is even longer than their record as lovers, so it’s oh so easy to slip back into the familiar banter. It comes across as sincere and perhaps ultimately that is enough for people to be able to pretend that they are indeed related.

Bilbo is also right in his prediction about being able to communicate easing their way to becoming a part of the community. They both make friends easily, especially Kili with his boundless enthusiasm and easy smiles, and before long any trip to the village's market ends with long stops for a chat with the locals. Their hard work also helps dispel the impression that they are somehow sitting on some vast quantities of money, accidentally created by Fili's shoebox of banknotes and making people distrustful.

Bilbo scoffs when they mention they might have accidentally become 'respectable', but it's clear that, in his own way, he is proud of them. Their lessons continue all the way throughout the autumn and Bilbo turns out to be an incredible ally, especially when he's not on the other end of a shotgun directed at their chest.

It does come as a bit of a surprise when some two months later a wad of paperwork arrives at their new home, addressed to 'Mr. Fili and Mr. Kili Oakenshield'. Wary of the strange legal language they don't quite understand, the documents promptly end up with Bilbo for translation.

"Ah, yes, the deeds. I was wondering when these would turn up," the teacher says, scanning page after page of documentation and sipping his tea. "It all looks correct to me, but then I'm no expert," he declares in the end. "I can send it to my solicitor friend in Stockholm to look over, if you like?"

"Deeds? To the house, you mean?" Fili eyes the paperwork suspiciously, while Kili can barely stay put in his chair.

"Of course. You have bought it after all. Spent a fair deal of cash on it too."

"I thought that a handshake was our agreement. Figured eye witnesses were proof enough if there was ever any doubt. These aren't the times that lend themselves to formalities..."

Bilbo only chuckles. "In Sweden it's always time for formalities, Fili. Congratulations, you and your brother are now proud owners of the Island of Alnon."

"Island?!" This time it's both of them turning heads.

"Well, yes. And half a mile of surrounding waters, to be exact. What, did you think you were paying twenty four thousand for the cabin alone?!"

"We did think it was rather steep..." Fili mutters in the end, but Kili is already laughing, a wonderful, free laughter that seems to infect others within moments.

That afternoon they go for a walk around their new 'property', discovering a little lake in the middle, dense forest and a small cove with a beach facing the open sea. Even the bitter cold isn't able to wipe the grins off their faces as they return hand in hand to their home.

 

\---

 

Fili’s first hint comes in the form of a slightly unnatural glow visible through their bedroom window and the sky the colour of raspberry yoghurt.

As far North as they are, the daylight is now only available for the precious few hours during the day and shortly it will be taken away from them altogether - a flip side to the Land of the Midnight Sun, which they have been told so much about by the locals.

It should be dark, this early in the morning, at a tail end of October.

But blinking himself awake, Fili is warm and content and his primary focus lies with Kili who feels like a little furnace slotted behind him and with one arm carelessly thrown across Fili’s stomach.

This is _exactly_ where Fili wants to be, for as long as possible.

It’s been over a month since their arrival in Sandviken.

He’s sleeping better, thinks he can even remember little fragments of his dreams; nothing solid of course, only little ghosts of sensations and the taste of candied almonds. The memory makes him contemplate Christmas and Hanukah, their first proper chance to celebrate those two occasions together, with more than just a token effort through the ten-inch gap.

He’s thinking of getting a real tree, actually chopping it down together and wonders if the forest on the island holds any conifers, when his body decides to remind him that he needs to slip out just for one moment to the privy outside.

His second hint is right there in the plain sight along the bottom edges of the windows, but by that point Fili is mostly concerned with picking out the smallest bits of firewood, piled neatly next to the hearth, which will catch fire the fastest and turn the freezing temperatures outside their bed at least a little bit more bearable. He does this shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, but thinks it will be worth it for the mad dash straight back to the warm bed after.

His third hint is much more subtle and lies within the muffled sounds of the island around them, in the way the waves seem quieter that morning, as Fili jumps around on one shoed foot next to the back door, trying to shove on the other boot with increasing degree of urgency.

He wins that battle eventually, grabs a blanket from the sofa to save himself from freezing, opens the door and –

Well.

He’s seen the snow before in his life, but this is _something else_.

“Kili!” He yells over his shoulder, staring. “Get up! Come see this!”

There’s a loud groan from the bedroom, followed by “put on the kettle. I’ll be right there, I just – I need –“

Fili smiles at the sounds of his Kili being barely lucid, can almost see him twisting his face to hide it in the pillow, quite possibly _Fili’s_ pillow.

“Get your ass over here and you will not regret this!” He calls again, prodding the snow curiously with the tip of his boot.

A few muffled sounds and some shuffling later and Kili’s arms slide firmly around his waist, while Kili’s head settles heavily on top of his shoulder, nose buried in his neck.

It isn’t the teasing little movement of clever fingers and warm palms, which would indicate that Kili wants him back in bed to see what kinds of noises he can wring out of him today; it’s not the tight and slightly stiff embrace, which means that Kili slept badly and needs to touch his skin and listen to his heartbeat for a while.

It’s the simple one, the one that says _hello_ , _I love you_ , _stay close_ and _I’m glad I’ve got you here_.

Fili has mastered the language of Kili’s arms in past weeks and considers himself an expert by now.

He smiles and allows himself to rub his bearded cheek against Kili’s messy hair, adding to the chaos already there, before whispering, “Open your eyes, Kili.”

He can tell that Kili’s eyes are huge without looking, when he says, “Snow! The first snow of the year!”

“Mhm, but look at how much of it! We had three steps at the back of the house, didn’t we? And they’re all gone.”

“But that must be –“

“- Almost a foot and a half? Must have been at it all night.”

In fact, it isn’t quite finished as yet - the fat, fluffy little petals sprinkling down continuously, giving everything a surreal, fairytale-like look.

The noise that Kili emits next is one of utter delight. “Do you have any idea how many slopes we have on the island?! I wonder if the wash basin would be any good for going down hill… We could make skis! There _must_ be something in the house we could use! I’ve _always_ wanted to learn how to ski!”

“If we could get the straight planks for the boards, I could easily fix them with metal fittings,” Fili murmurs, somehow caught up in all this wild enthusiasm. “If I could get to the forge somehow…”

“And the poles! We’ll need the poles!”

“I’ll make you anything you like, but first I really need –“ Fili jumps outside and instantly finds himself knee deep in the snow, hissing and cursing at the icy coldness against his sleep-warm shins.

He yelps and jumps, almost clearing the snow, when something hits him hard squarely in the ass.

Kili looks unbearably smug where he’s standing in the doorframe, and the bastard did always have a freakishly good aim.

“Just you wait…” Fili mutters, scooping up a handful for his own missile and striding towards the privy with determination.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Find me on Tumblr.](http://linane-art.tumblr.com/)


	16. Falling Like Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the perfect song to go with this chapter here - [Falling Like Stars - Caitlin Nicol-Thomas](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TSfILwVH4EU)
> 
> In other news, as the story is coming to a close, I'm trying to make a _Between the Boards Soundtrack_ , in the form of a fanmix on 8tracks. I am still a good few songs short so if you have any ideas for any of the chapters so far, please let me know!

 

_December 1945_

 

 

They don’t try to rush things.

It’s been three months and the chilly hues of golden autumn have now truly given way to the icy wind of the winter. The outside is ruled by yet another storm; the lights of the village invisible in the deluge and the sea is certainly too rough to even contemplate crossing, so they’re effectively cut off from the rest of the world.

It seems Sweden is often at the mercy of the elements.

They use the spare time they have to chop up the last of the firewood they will need for the winter inside their little shed, but as soon as it’s secured from the frost they retreat back to the house to find refuge from the biting cold. There will be no more chores that day.

The early evening hours find them curled up on their sofa, feet in thick woollen socks stretched out in front of the fire to warm up, steaming mugs of tea forgotten on the low table as they kiss leisurely.

They have the time, and now that the sense of safety has finally sunk into their bones, they use it, to chase down the things they need.

“Fili!” a soft gasp as a calloused hand slowly slides under the waistline of his trousers.

“No?” the fingers pause in their exploration burning into the sensitive skin of Kili’s hip. “I thought –“

“Yesssss…” Kili hisses, brazenly throwing one leg over both of Fili’s, transferring his weight to sit properly in his lap, take his face in both his hands and drown in the way Fili tastes.

Hands switch their interest to roam across his back and for a moment their kisses are infused with soft, easy chuckles.

“More,” he manages, rocking slowly back and forth to find some friction, fingers between them working on unbuttoning Fili’s shirt. “Stay close. Like that time…”

He gets a pleased little hum in response.

In the end it’s all about quenching their need for each other.

They like to kiss. Waste away whole afternoons on nothing more than kissing and falling asleep half-hard, every single last nerve buzzing with drunken satisfaction. Kili learns what Fili looks like when he feels so good he loses the ability to speak, letting Kili do whatever he wants. Fili learns of Kili’s temper, which will take over if he is pushed too far, and watches him arch and twist them until he is completely satisfied. They learn a thousand things their lips and tongues are capable of, a thousand little sighs and murmurs and soft gasps of pleasure, delicate ‘I love yous’ peppered between it all.

They touch because not to touch seems incomprehensible. Especially at first, the need to hold explodes between them, each soft caress putting out the fires of neglect that burned their skin for so long. The closeness comes easy to them, learned since they were kids huddled together away from the rain.

As the weeks pass it eases into contact that is more purposeful, more curious and exploring and they gasp their way through that too, together. Gentle strokes to the hair as they press close enough to feel each other’s heartbeat, a thumb pressed into a pleasure spot, teasing nips and eyes once again sparkling with mischief as slick fingers explore the heat inside their bodies.

Slowly, gradually, mornings like that very first one, rocking together, slow, a give and take of the rhythm they find at such times. Their hands _there_ , between them, pressing and searching and learning new and wonderful things. The perfect fit of their bodies twisted together and delighted cries when the world tips over the edge and they let themselves fall.

They don’t rush.

It has taken them too long to find this, to work it out, to rush now. So instead they ease into each other, into the pleasure, and each time they let it carry them until the hunger is satisfied.

And now -

“I want –“ eyes closing and a twist, a soft grunt and they go down, down, down, together, parting for a moment to watch the blown pupils and panting breaths.

The moon and the fire are fighting for dominance over Fili’s skin, painting him in light.

 _As if there wasn’t enough gold in him already_ , Kili thinks, feeling light-headed from the expanse of creamy skin, honey-coloured crinkly trail running from the broad chest, over delicately defined stomach to disappear in the dip between Fili’s legs.

The years Fili spent in the forge – years Kili almost completely missed – have changed him, completed who he is, but there is no sense of loss at this, only the realisation that the hard work he’s taken on must have been his refuge, and his way of growing into himself.

“Kili,” the low, soft voice makes him blink and look at that beloved face, shadows from Fili’s eyelashes long and heavy on his cheeks, “hey, I’m here. Stay with me.”

Kili thinks of blue eyes watching him watch Fili’s body freely, thinks of the familiar, intimate, complete trust, feels himself respond and harden to the gentle, peaceful curve to Fili’s lips and leans in to kiss them – slow, loving, easy equivalent to _need you_ , and _I’m here_ , and _shhhh…_

They know this part, settle into it, move apart, share a breath, kiss again, rise and fall on it, until there is a broad hand sliding into Kili’s hair, coming to rest at the back of his neck, warm and heavy there, and Kili’s own hand tracing the contour of one rounded ear. The complete safety of the space between them in contrast to the furious storm raging on outside in the darkness.

“I want to watch,” Kili whispers against those swollen lips, waiting for a reaction, “with you. I want to make you fall and I want you to see what you look like when I do it.”

Fili’s breath hitches and he searches Kili’s eyes for a moment, while Kili’s hand presses into his stomach, curling lovingly around the slight dip of Fili’s waist, tracing the contour. They have pushed at each other until they are sprawled comfortably on the sofa, in front of the roaring fire and Kili’s impatient hands tugged Fili’s shirt open and pushed his pants and underwear only as far as his thighs.

Kili returns the look, lets him search his soul. He doesn’t care if it’s wrong or right, never has; he only cares about the warm rush of life under his fingers and a personality that compliments his own, like they’ve been made for each other. “It doesn’t belong in the darkness,” he blurts out something that doesn’t yet fit in their time, “You look – gorgeous. I won’t be ashamed. I can’t be. I love you!”

“Kili,” Fili’s voice soothing the storm of thoughts in his mind, but somehow sad. “I love you too. Yes. Alright. Come on, touch me.”

He knew Fili would agree - nothing’s ever been hidden or forbidden between them - but they have missed out on that age when stroking off together sounds like an excellent idea and their sex has been slow, thick and heavy like molasses, decadent and curious at the same time. They have made it into their own thing, learned the rhythm, the angles, different quality of pleasure and among it all, brilliant laughter and pure happiness of feeling complete.

But this is another first, even though Kili contemplated it often enough, so it’s important he gets it right.

“I want to hold you,” he demands immediately, sliding to kneel on the floor and help prop Fili up half against the pillows, half against his shoulder so he can have an easy access to the expanse of exposed skin.

“You’re such a brat,” Fili scowls, but is only half successful, looking very content indeed tucked into Kili’s arms like that, peering down at himself and then up to give him a smug smile so full of sin that Kili groans when his cock strains against his fly.

“You’re driving me mad!” He growls, sucking a mark into the skin of Fili’s shoulder, letting his fingertips get tangled in the honeyed curls at the pit of Fili’s stomach.

“What? I thought you wanted to watch me –“ there is a shout when Kili wraps his fingers around Fili’s heavy weight and they both freeze, eyes meeting, shadows painting their skin.

“Did I –“

“Please –“ and Fili spreads his legs open as much as he can, and it’s the most erotic thing Kili has ever seen.

The darkness casts long shadows over the planes of Fili’s chest and stomach, the valley between his legs and they both watch Kili’s teasing hands slide over that perfect landscape and wrap around him again, slowly this time. Kili closes his eyes for a moment, fingers roaming the damp velvety skin, feeling it jump under his touch, feeling Fili’s breathing speed up, and leans in to kiss his temple, sliding back into the cosy familiarity between them.

“You belong to me,” he murmurs into the warm, soft hair, his other hand coming to rest over Fili’s heart, stealing the place from the firelight that dared to caress him there. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. I don’t care if it’s a sin. People have always judged me and always will. But here… under this moon… you belong to me, Fili.”

He is pulled down for an upside-down kiss, but his eyes fly open when he feels Fili’s hips push up into his loose hand.

“And you’re mine,” in those three little words uttered with a hint of raspy desire, in that single heated look Fili gives him, Kili can read more need than if Fili poured his heart out.

They both have their scars, they have been hurt and wronged and they still fear sometimes. But it’s in moments like this that it all pales into insignificance compared to the fact that they are together, still, always, against all odds.

Kili has never wanted this much, didn’t know it could go this far, like he’s going to die unless…

His lips and hands find the skin, and Fili moans, head tipping back, arms raising above his head, putting himself on display for Kili, desire and trust twisted together. Kili grabs at himself at the gesture, not sure if looking for relief or to hold himself back, but he can’t stop, lips kissing, nipping and tasting the skin and trembling muscles underneath.

He feels the shudder that rips through Fili, knows he’s caused it, knows that Fili has felt it too, in the widening of his eyes and the twist of his head.

“Ah, yes, just like that…” a gasp and Fili is letting go, letting the pleasure take over him, twisting to get the angle he wants, making Kili’s blood pulse burning with need.

Kili pants into his hair, not sure where to look first, but it’s the eyes that draw him in the end, pupils blown wide and watching Kili watch him again, breathless little moans, lips parted for a kiss.

“Fili –“ he presses his hand to the beloved heart hammering inside Fili’s chest, as if to hold it there, as he speeds up the movement of his hand, lips whispering mindless words of encouragement and love.

“Ki- Kili –!“ Surprised and beautiful and they both stare at Fili’s flesh disappearing in Kili’s grasp and in that moment it’s Kili that holds Fili right at the cusp of his pleasure, seconds stretching slow and tightly coiled, despite the desperate bucking, quiet cries and fingers twisting violently in the blanket covering the sofa.

It’s all-consuming desire, trembling rolling through Fili’s whole body, and panted breaths in between fractured words like prayers. He is so wild in that moment, so free of everything he normally allows to control him and Kili is driving it all higher, driving them both into the blissful incoherency of pleasure.

He holds Fili like this, both trapped and liberated by his hands, an ultimate proof of –

_Anything. Anything you want, Kili._

“P- please –“ Fili begs and it sounds hoarse, like he never sounded before.

“Look at me.”

One’s desire reflected in the eyes of the other, everything wound up to a breaking point and it’s on a cry kissed away by starved lips that Fili finds his completion. He arches clean off the sofa, covering his own stomach in come, all of his muscles curling and releasing at once, and he twists with the force of his orgasm.

Kili does the only thing he can – he holds him through this, moaning because god, it’s the most incredible thing he has ever seen and he almost comes himself without a single touch, _almost_ but _not quite_. Fili is more important, always, so instead he presses him down as best as he can and wraps himself around him, breathing into his skin to try and ease the fire coursing through his veins and pooling in his groin.

“Kili. Kili…” the voice is the next thing he recognises, floating high as he is, and gentle hands tugging him back onto the sofa, from where he was kneeling before on the floor, shaking.

 _It’s too much_ , he thinks, near-delirious with the gentle touches to his face, and the pressure of a calloused hand between his legs, fumbling with the button and pushing his trousers down.

“Easy. Breathe…” Fili says and Kili obeys, eyes cracking open to peer into the worried blue eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Kili wants to laugh, because they are well beyond trust, and Kili would do anything Fili would ask of him now.

“Trust me now,” another whisper and Fili lowers his head to the pulsing flesh between Kili’s legs.

He doesn’t _understand_ at first, but then there’s a hot wet mouth and it’s Kili’s turn to scream. Hands fly to the golden tresses and he can’t help but trust up once, twice, three times and then he knows what it’s like to fly, to soar, to be so much more than he is.

Then: _close_ , again, always, hands pulling Fili up to his chest, curling up together on the sofa, fingers stroking up and down his back as Kili tries to comprehend what just happened.

For a time there are no words, every phrase they know pale and bland compared to what they just did to each other. They don’t feel like speaking, they are _feeling_ still, together, sharing the sensation.

There is only Fili, holding Kili together and Kili keeping him whole in his arms in turn. There are tears in the corners of their eyes, because they are overwhelmed and a little bit lost, and it seems unbelievable that they never knew _this_ for years that they had each other. There are still shivers and soothing kisses to the sweaty skin and their fingers lose their way on the planes of each other’s back.

“I love you,” hoarse and thick with emotion from Fili and a corresponding surge of fierce protectiveness in Kili’s heart.

“I love you too,” he kisses into Fili’s hair, and then lets his words flow freely, describing how beautiful Fili was, how it felt for him, how at the heart of the lust he felt there was always _Fili_. It’s nonsense, but it settles over both of them like a blanket, grounding them back in reality.

In return there are murmured words of comfort he believes and a sense of lightness he’s never experienced before. It’s all so good, so incredibly good, to stay close up like this, to have this place, this time and Fili just to himself.

“Next time you’re the one splayed like an offering for me to debauch,” Fili declares in a voice gruff with affection, when they’re both hovering pleasantly close to a restful nap.

The chuckle starts low in Kili’s belly, because they can do it _again and again_ , quickly tipping into a full-on, infectious laughter, until Fili is giggling together with him from the sheer happiness that cannot be contained.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Find me on Tumblr ](http://linane-art.tumblr.com/)


	17. Memories Wounded by Shrapnel

 

_February 1946_

 

 

Scrambled eggs for breakfast seem like an excellent idea.

Except breakfast isn’t really breakfast anymore, because by the time Kili wakes up, the short winter day is almost exhausted, with the setting sun painting everything in beautiful gold and amber hues.

They overslept again, and badly, which Kili blames on the poor weather and easy companionship, or more specifically, a really good book they were reading and translating together well into the wee morning hours. The strait separating them from the land wasn’t crossable yesterday and it doesn’t look much better today, forcing the two of them to wait it out, holed up in their cosy cabin.

His friend barely stirs when Kili gets up, instead curling up into the warm spot he’s left behind. Fili looks almost vulnerable like this, with all his barriers down, unconsciously seeking what little comfort he can get, and Kili’s heart swells with familiar affection and happiness that he’s only just getting used to.

He leans in to kiss Fili’s temple and pull the covers higher over his shoulder and whispers, “don’t go anywhere,” before grabbing Fili’s fur-lined jacket and heading outside.

The problem with having grown up in the city is that as far as Kili is concerned, eggs come from little cardboard containers delivered to the back of his shop by a nice man with a massive moustache.

The few times they had eggs since their arrival, Fili was the one to retrieve them, and they very quickly discovered that they have no idea how to distinguish between eggs-for-eating and eggs-for-having-more-chickens, which has put them off for a while. But the thought of Fili’s smile when he’s presented with a heavenly-smelling plateful of food is enough to warrant some further experimentation.

Kili is able to identify the old chicken coop by the sounds coming from the inside, but beyond that he has no idea what he’s doing, except there is a door, so it must be –

He realises his mistake as soon as he climbs inside and looks up.

It’s dark, with only the smallest shafts of light penetrating inside where the boards forming the walls don’t quite fit properly. Behind him the door slams shut with a bang and it’s –

The bomb explodes only a few blocks away and for a moment there are still screams and Kili wishes he was deaf so he couldn’t hear them, so he wouldn’t be aware that this is the sound of someone dying, someone he can’t help, someone who should be gone already.

But the whiz of the missiles doesn’t end, only moves further, as that particular bomber plane speeds past their position.

He wonders sometimes, because there is a lot of time to kill during nights like this, what the pilots and the crew see, when they look down. Do they see people, their homes, local shops and markets, everything that’s important to them, everything they’ve known their entire lives? Or do they only see targets, little squares of tenement courtyards like a basketball hoops, waiting to place a bomb for three points per building? Do they see their own loved ones, their faces, perhaps going through the same horror, perhaps even killed, by the army of the people Kili used to believe himself to be a part of?

Nobody sees _Kili_ , neither an enemy, nor an ally, sentenced from birth, but never told not to get too attached to this life he temporarily has, never taught how to accept death. _His_ loved ones, _his_ streets, _his_ shop, _his_ synagogue, _his_ everything, shattered and strewn carelessly on the wind.

He’s not really bitter any more, he’s learned back in the ghetto that it doesn’t help him in any way; he’s not even angry with the crew of the bomber plane, he just wishes somebody finally resolved it.

There’s another blast nearby and Kili cowers in the corner of his pantry, curled up into a ball, with hands covering his head and trembling.

Nobody told him how to stop feeling either, how to ride out the carousel of emotions rolling through him, how to detach himself and take an objective stock of the accounts of death around him.

He _really_ wishes someone had told him up front never to fall in love.

That it’s not worth it, that it doesn’t matter in the backdrop of war, and that nobody cares about one heart terrified about the fate of another into near-insanity.

At that Kili rebels.

He thinks of dimples and Fili’s carefree laughter and how something like _meaning_ starts stirring in the pit of his belly at the sight. He thinks of the way Fili looks at Kili, with fondness and a tiny bit of exasperation and, at times when he thinks Kili can’t see, like Kili is his only spark in the sea of darkness.

He wraps himself in the memory, trying to fight it - in the insane love that humbles Kili and the feeling of Fili’s fingers on his skin patiently knitting him back together.

He thinks if his entire existence is completely erased, this one thing –

The sound of something crashing heavily first through the roof tiles, then floors and ceilings, practically next door, gives Kili a brilliant split-second insight that it’s time.

It’s _now_.

Fili’s body thrown around him arms squeezing him painfully on impulse as if it could be enough brilliant lightscreamlastbreathnot _him_ -

“Kili!”

Bang, another, just like the first one, and the building is shaking, walls about to crumble and crush them, Kili’s whole body shaking with it, by Fili’s hands on his shoulders.

“Kili!”

A kiss, probably their last one, and finally the people about to die around him have stopped screaming.

“Look at me, look into my eyes! You’re here and now, you’re here with me! Just focus on my face, don’t look around you.”

Kili places his hands over the cool fingers on either side of his face, holding him together, and looks into the deep dark pupils, blown from the shadows around them. It’s easier to breathe like this, although his pulse is still racing.

“That’s it. _My_ Kili, just keep looking at me, okay? Are you hurt?”

It’s the word _my_ that puts the reality back together for Kili, the way it rolls off Fili’s tongue, the delicate inflex of his speech and an accent on ‘M’.

Chicken coop. Eggs. Door slammed shut by the wind.

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Fili searches his face, “You may not be feeling it at the moment, I think you’re in shock. I heard your screams, but I was a few hundred yards into the forest and it took me a while to run back.”

“You went looking for me,” Kili says slowly, piecing the words together and carefully threading them onto a string of a sentence, “which means you must have woken up alone and thought I –“

“Shhhh… It’s okay, I found you now. Why were you screaming?”

“The bomb,” he says simply, knowing that Fili will understand. He watches how pale Fili goes even in the golden light provided by the single flame of a paraffin lamp Fili brought with him, and suddenly he hates himself for bringing it back into their lives, when they thought they left it behind. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, avoiding Fili’s eyes, “I just wanted to get us some eggs for dinner…” he whispers.

“Hey,” a growl which is nothing to do with what happened and everything to do with Kili shutting Fili out, “I was there, I know what it felt like. But we’re alive, and I’ve _got_ you and I’m here with you.”

Forehead to forehead now and Fili uses the side of his face to nudge his head higher, placing their lips a mere breath away, but leaving Kili a choice.

He takes him up on the offer, leans in with one hand trailing up Fili’s forearms for stability, and kisses him; in part an apology, in part reassurance and in part the gentle murmur of _I love you_.

“Listen, can we –“ Kili starts when they part, meeting the blue eyes again, “- will you help me out of here?”

When Fili offers him a gentle smile at that, Kili doesn’t feel broken any more.

“Take my hand,” he whispers, and Kili does, letting himself be pulled outside, into the milky light of unfamiliar stars and the gentle snow petals falling down to the ground lazily.

 

\---

 

“I thought I was over it,” Kili whispers into his mug of steaming tea and even though he’s taller than Fili, right now he looks about ten inches shorter.

Fili’s heart crumbles a little at the confession and he pulls him closer to his chest, making sure the blanket stays in place, until Kili is able to virtually hide in the space Fili created for him. It feels like when they were travelling, when Kili would get terrified of the huge open spaces and the lack of cover. Being lost back then didn’t quite feel like _being free_ and they held on to each other, just like Kili holds on to him now.

They may be deeply in love, but Fili has never stopped, _will_ never stop being Kili’s best friend.

“I thought I was okay,” Kili continues, his voice cracking, just once and with a vague hint of annoyance, “I told myself that it was my turn to look out for you. I _hate_ being a liability, I hate that people never used to see us as equals and now I’m proving their point, by being so -”

“Personally, I always thought you were the best of us,” Fili remarks calmly, because he’s heard quite enough now, watching Kili’s head whip around to look at him, expression like a brewing spring storm. “No, really. You –“ he lets his eyes grow unfocussed, searching for the right words. “You react to the world with such passion, you learn it through emotions. It feels bleak here in my head, by comparison. I admire that about you, and I am in love with that spirit and the way you can still laugh so freely…”

“I don’t need pity, Fili,” Kili’s eyes narrow, but Fili knows him well enough to understand that he’s lashing out because he’s angry with himself.

“No, you don’t,” he concedes. “And I wasn’t offering any. But you do need to heal, in fact, we both do. People don’t recover overnight, at least not from something like we’ve lived through, Kili. It comes back, and I know what it feels like – this helplessness that seems to choke you until you think you’ll drown in it and give up. But you’re always there to pull me out of it, you’ve got me, every time, and it’s enough for me to be able to trust and hope again. You’re so much stronger than you think, Kili. You’re the strongest person I know,” he murmurs softly into the dark messy hair and gets a damp sniff in return, but leaves Kili to hide for the time being.

“Don’t feel very strong,” there’s a frustrated huff.

“You just need to give yourself time. And you still have me, you’ll always have me,” he whispers.

Kili sighs and tucks his head into the crook of Fili’s shoulder, content to just stay there, snuggled in so that he can breathe freely, which means progress.

For a time Fili just strokes his back and stares at the fire, lost in his thoughts and wrapped up in companionable silence between them.

“I hate it when you’re being the ‘older one’,” Kili declares eventually.

“I know. You bristle, huff and occasionally try to punch me. But you take my words with you and you think them over, which makes it worth a bruise or two.”

Kili snorts at that.

“Too much wisdom for one night?”

“Shut up, Fili.”

Fili chuckles and leans down to place a kiss against the dark hair still featuring an occasional downy feather, making a mental note to take some pages from his own book, to give himself time.

“Kili?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t think any less of you, you know.”

“I know. But next time you can get the eggs.”

“Actually, there are those little hatches on the sides of the coop –“

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Find me on Tumblr](http://linane-art.tumblr.com/)


	18. The Land of the Midnight Sun

 

_July - September 1946_

 

 

It takes another five months for Kili to learn the fate of his family.

In his mind he has buried them, together with his home in the tenement and a life of a shopkeeper left behind. So when one summer morning Fili appears in Bofur's garage with a letter tucked away in his coat, Kili has no idea what to expect.

"I'm sorry," Fili says sitting down close to him on a low bench by the wall, "I should have asked your permission first, but I didn't want to give you false hope if this got nowhere."

"Fili?" He asks uncertainly taking an open, crumpled envelope from his hands and looking back into familiar blue eyes watching him.

"If it was me, I'd want to know," Fili says quietly, offering him a tiny smile. And I'm sorry I opened it, but I thought it would be safer to do this anonymously, using the few contacts I still had left in the city, so at first I didn't realise what it was I was reading. I brought it straight over here as soon as I knew."

"But the forge -" Kili protests, some tiny part of him playing for time, because his heart already _suspects_ and he's suddenly afraid.

"Closed for the day. The world won't end if I pick it up tomorrow. This is far more important."

Bofur takes one look at the envelope in Kili's hands and decides it's about time he popped out to pick up the grocery shop Bilbo asked for, so when Kili's oil-stained fingers carefully unfold the page and a half of his uncle's familiar neat handwriting, it's just the two of them.

 

> _As far as we're aware, Kili was shot dead on Brandenburg Allee on the 7th of September 1943, so you will understand my surprise and caution upon receiving your letter._
> 
> _Whilst I have questions about your identity and intentions, sir, it would mean the world to my sister if we were wrong in our belief about Kili's fate._
> 
> _Should you have any means of contacting my nephew, please tell him this: we live. Me, my sister Dis and her daughter Sarah have all survived the war and are well._
> 
> _The address I enclose below is not where we are staying, but a letter received there will find its way to us, should there be a reply forthcoming._

 

Kili had many reasons to cry during the war, but it always felt like defeat, like letting his oppressors win, so he fought to hold his tears back. Now though, as Fili's fingers carefully remove the delicate paper from Kili's shaking hands to put it to one side, he lets the emotions pour out of him openly.

With his nose buried deep in the blond hair, familiar strong arms closed around him, and soothing nonsense murmured into his ear, he sobs uncontrollably for the time lost, the pain now ended and the fear that has ruled his heart for so long.

In the months to come Kili learns that his family, as well as twelve others have jumped off a moving transportation train, having found a way of removing the floorboards of their compartment. They hid in the wild Polish forests of Masuria for a time, until a local farmer took them in for the winter.

It hurts to have to describe his life in Sweden without Fili, but he knows he would not be understood or accepted. Instead he only mentions Fili's role in his survival in Germany and getting out of the country, saying nothing of how he came to feel about his friend.

It's another two years before his family are settled and feel safe enough to arrange a visit, but during this time and for years after there is a constant line of correspondence between a little Polish church and Bilbo's school, which they're both using as safe post boxes.

It’s bitter-sweet and Kili feels a bit like Fili did, standing in the open compartment of a freight train on that sun-streaked autumn morning and throwing away his house keys – his heart torn in two. But Fili was right – it’s important and so Kili shares the two halves of his life between the people he loves as best as he can.

 

\---

 

Fili is woken up by a loud thunder.

His first instinct is to duck; second - to shield Kili. His arm shoots out, finds a warm body next to him and he wraps himself around it before he's fully aware what he's doing.

In response a hand is placed on his waist and slowly moved to the small of his back and up, fingers stroking along his spine. It's only a little gesture, but it tells him all he needs to know: Kili is okay.

He kisses whatever part of Kili he has available to him in his arms, which turns out to be the wild tangle of his hair, and receives a low, pleased murmur in return.

They lay like this in complete darkness for a while, listening to the wind and thunder outside together, fingers stroking over the skin. The storm only seems to be getting closer, until Kili whispers: "It must be spectacular. I want to see."

Fili smiles and pulls him closer for a second in mute agreement, feeling a kiss and a corresponding smile pressed over his heart. They are teenage boys again when they sneak outside on their tiptoes, finding shelter under the low overhang of the roof at the back of the house and settling on a wooden bench there.

It _is_ spectacular.

The heavy august air is thick with heat, moisture and electricity, clinging to their skin and settling the little hair on the back of their necks standing. The storm is coming from the land, battering the little valley before them in waves of rain, compensating for the low visibility with brilliant lightening hitting the rocky slopes around it without mercy. Thunder rolls through them as they hold their hands together and watch the spectacle before them. This is unlike anything they've ever seen: the storms used to feel different in the enclosed courtyards of the tenements. The scale and ferocity of it invoke the sense of danger, but they felt safe together, shoulder to shoulder, eyes wide with awe.

They are still so very young.

When it moves closer, enveloping the little island, they stand their ground. As the wind picks, trees creak, rain pours in waterfalls from the edges of a simple thatched roof, they huddle closer, but never turn away from it.

It's beautiful: the vast expanse of furious sea fighting for dominance with spears of light thrust into it time and time again. It goes on for miles, as far as the eye can see, and with no lights or buildings of the city to obscure the view, it fills them with sense of humility towards the power unleashed by nature.

In a way it makes everything that people are capable of, all that destruction and horror they have witnessed, insignificant in comparison. There are only the two of them, at the very end of the world, watching it rip itself apart and form itself back together. Suddenly it isn't so inconceivable that giants once walked the earth and chiselled each sharp cliff with their hands.

If they ever searched for freedom, this is where they find it: on a little island battered by the storm, watching it all come down, together.

 

\---

 

“Is that my sweater?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kili offers a private little smile to the chicken soup on the stove, trying to decide if it needs more pepper or not.

“I’m pretty sure it is,” a voice insists much closer, before a familiar pair of arms wraps around Kili’s waist, absolutely not causing a pleased little hum. Fili nuzzles his nose into the nape of Kili’s neck and the need to express further vocal approval intensifies. “You’re going to stretch it.”

“I never! You’re broader in the shoulders than I am anyway!”

“Yes, but your arms are unnecessarily long! You’ll stretch the sleeves!”

Kili is about to respond when a pair of ice-cold hands slides under the comfy sweater and the shirt underneath, making him yelp as soon as they press against his lower tummy. Fili, of course, is unrepentant, giving him a delighted grin instead.

“What on earth have you been up to?! Swimming with the seals?!” He huffs, rubbing protectively at his belly through the layers of clothing.

“I’ve fed the goats,” Fili offers, sniffing the pot curiously.

Kili wordlessly passes him the spoon, watching his friend blow carefully at the hot contents he scooped.

“More pepper,” the blond declares and moves to eye Kili’s batter lined up to the side. “Your pancakes will never set with batter this runny.”

“That’s not for pancakes. That’s for the batter noodles to go with the soup. Now I’ve only seen this done twice in my life, so stop distracting me.”

Fili sniggers again. “Distracting, am I? Best I go and set the table then, lest you ruin our dinner,” he murmurs cheerfully, leaning in to press a kiss to Kili’s jawline.

Kili’s scowl softens at that, watching his back and thinking that Fili looks good among the comforts of their home. “And you’re doing the dishes today, by the way.”

 

\---

 

"Kili!" The yell sounds behind him and he stops on his path among the tall trees swaying gently in the salty sea breeze.

It takes a while for Fili to catch up with him and he waits patiently as the blond leans his arms on his knees and tries to catch his breath.

"Ran all the way from - from the jetty." Fili pants out as Kili moves his hair out of his face for him, thinking that the braid he put it in needs re-doing. "This - This came in for you this morning -"

The envelope is neat but plain, addressed to Mr. Stormbjorn, false name of course, and they've been waiting for this one for a while. Suddenly he's more afraid of dashing Fili's expectations than his own.

Because this can only be a response from the publisher, the last of them, and if it's negative, they have agreed that the matter will be closed.

A response regarding Kili’s first ever book.

Kili isn't a natural writer; he doesn't have the patience to sit still for hours and type. But there is this urge to write, there is all this _content_ in his head, which has to get out, born of months of stretching silences and being left alone with his thoughts inside a dark pantry.

So when Fili, smiling sheepishly and "it's only secondhand so don't be expecting anything fancy", gifts him a typewriter for his twenty fifth birthday, Kili is over the moon.

But it takes a while to learn how to write in a way that works for him.

He types up a paragraph or two, then moves to tinker with some latest car part that Bofur left with him to fix; he writes another, grease marks on the elaborate buttons, and makes himself a sandwich; he gets stuck and comes to chatter with Fili for a while, sometimes coming back, sometimes abandoning his work altogether in favour of warmth and a familiar curve of his body.

He doesn't write about his experiences during the war: there are thousands of those accounts already and more still that will never be told. Instead he writes down the images his imagination conjured: fantastical tales of lost cities, new lands and wild adventures, like the ones he so loved reading by candle light in the darkness.

It takes time, but it feels like _healing_ , the one that Fili spoke about, so he carries on.

Fili helps him translate it from German to Swedish and Bilbo has kindly agreed to edit it and correct any linguistic issues. But even when it's ready, and Kili is well into the next volume, it takes Fili two months to convince him to send it off to a couple of publishers in Stockholm.

They all reject it of course, sounding apologetic enough and Kili laughs it off, with a little sing-song of 'I told you so' to Fili's unimpressed scowl directed at the letter.

He tears this one last envelope open then and there, rolling his eyes at Fili's expectant look.

"I don't know what you're getting so excited about: I told you before - even if my amateurish scribbles could somehow compete with works of professional writers, there is the language barrier -"

He trails off mid-sentence as his mind catches up with what he's reading.

"And?!" Comes a frustrated huff.

"Oh."

"Oh?!" Fili loses his patience and snatches the letter to read for himself. He only needs a few moments before the familiar smug smile, complete with those damned dimples, makes an appearance. "What did I tell you? Come on, let's hear it!"

Kili can't stop a delighted laughter before lifting his friend and twirling him around to a series of outraged protests. The kiss that follows is in part to stop Fili gloating, and partly, well, partly because Kili is stupidly in love.

They return back home hand in hand, walking among trees on their little island and grinning like idiots, their minds running a million miles an hour.

"So," Fili demands using the steps at the back entrance to their cabin to compensate for the height difference and press their foreheads together, "where to next?"

Kili always said that if he ever got published he'd spend the money to go travelling, see the world, catch up on all the years they have lost. They spent many happy evenings debating where, theoretically, they'd go first, before Kili settled on -

"Africa," he breathes, still wide-eyed and a bit disbelieving, but so, so happy.

 

\---

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thank you for staying with me on this wonderful journey and sharing boys' pain, as well as the little drops of their happiness. I will miss this fic, hugely, as it's been particularly close to my heart, but I guess all good things must come to an end._
> 
> _Or do they?_
> 
> _It's a universe now, and I have lots of little headcanons about it, especially Fili's and Kili's life in Sweden and their future adventures. Not enough to justify extending the story, but something that may or may not pop up on Tumblr sometimes._
> 
> _Because anybody who's known me for 5 minutes knows I hate endings, more than anything._
> 
> _But there are other stories to be told, epic adventure fics which I will write one day. This one took me by surprise, and demanded 47k words before I could stop it. Next one might even be premeditated!_
> 
> _A huge thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who commented on this fic, most of you on every single chapter! I was blown away by that - it really means the world to me. I need to catch up on my responses in the next few days._
> 
> _Finally - thank you for reading!_
> 
> [As always, you can find me on Tumblr](http://linane-art.tumblr.com/)


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